Slow Burn
by Boy On Strings
Summary: Derek takes the pack on a vacation weekend to a beach, where they share a house. Derek and Stiles are forced to share a room after Allison and Scott claim one room, and Lydia claims another for her and Jackson. This leads the two towards bonding and more.
1. Destination: Awesome!

**Author's Notes:**

**Disclaimers and such: NC-17 once it gets going, Eventually, there will be other pairings besides Derek and Stiles, there may be some heterosexual sex (You've been warned), depending on how the story plays out. It's definitely going to have male/male sex of various kinds so if you don't like that (are there people who don't like that?) then you should probably walk away from this (You've been warned again). It's possible that there is underage sex in this as I never really knew for sure if the characters are 18 besides Derek, so if that's a problem you'd probably not want to continue reading this (You've been warned thrice). Lastly, and perhaps the most sad thing, I own nothing Teen Wolf, I make no money from this, I just like thinking of these things in my head and then sharing them.**

**I think I'm done now so enjoy (sorry about all the parenthetical notations, I just find them really fun tonight).**

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><p>"I can't wait!" Stiles was practically vibrating with nervous energy as he tore through his room like a whirlwind of manic energy. "This right here," he said as he pointed at the suitcase he was packing with a ferocity that made it seem like his house was dropping into a sinkhole and he had limited time to save his possessions, "This is going to contain everything we need for the most awesome weekend ever."<p>

Scott, whose suitcase was already packed and leaning against the wall near the door to Stiles's room, grunted noncommittally from the chair at Stiles's desk. Stiles cast him a disapproving frown. "What?" Scott asked. He hunched his shoulders as Stiles stared at him.

Stiles's eyebrows shot up, he flailed his arms trying to drive his point into his utterly lame werewolf best friend's brain. "What? _What?_ Did you seriously just ask me what?" Stiles licked his lips in anticipation as he grabbed Scott by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "We are going on a vacation. A sour wolf funded vacation of awesome, awesome at a beach. This is actually whatever comes right after awesome, maybe… maybe two stages past awesome even."

"Super awesome?" Scott said trying to be helpful but his voice came out in a bewildered monotone.

"Don't. Just don't, I'm afraid your D plus vocabulary doesn't possess the kinds of words needed for this." Stiles teased.

Scott sighed but didn't reply. Stiles thought he was going to argue at first. If his friend had, he'd been ready to throw out a litany of times where Scott had ditched him to be with Allison. Stiles knew how much he cared about her. He supported his friend, but sometimes he wished Scott had just a little more time for him too. He missed late nights eating pizza and playing video games. Scott could get so focused, so caught up in the moment that sometimes he didn't realize he was excluding other people who cared about him. Stiles would never say anything about it though. He was happy for Scott.

"What?" Scott asked. His eyes were slightly unfocused, gazing towards the window. He let out a short wistful breath. Scott didn't seem to want an answer, but Stiles was going to tell him anyway. That's what Stiles did, he talked. It was his thing.

"We need to tell Jackson to bring some of his parents' booze. You know Frowny isn't going to buy us beer," he said.

"Is…" Scott paused as if collecting his thoughts, "is Derek 'Frowny'?"

"Of course Derek is Frowny! Who in the world is more frowny than Derek? No one, no one is frownier. In fact, I think if Derek met the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge, they'd both be like 'Dude, smile once in a while', and do you know what he would do, Scott? Do you?" Stiles waited impatiently for Scott's answer.

"Frown?" Scott asked.

"You're damn right he would frown!" Stiles gestured emphatically to drive his point further home. "But he wouldn't stop there because he's Derek flippin Hale. He'd get all red glowing eyes on them and be like 'I am the Alpha, yes that has a capital A in it as you can tell from my overtly threatening manly voice. As the Alpha, I am above things like smiles, and laughing. Kittens tremble as I walk past and laughter dies a peasant's death." Stiles took a deep breath and started to pace back and forth in front of the window, he was just getting started on the topic.

He turned towards Scott with a small flourish; ready to unleash the next line of his completely accurate Derek impersonation when he noticed Scott was looking over his shoulder. The expression on his friend's face was acute horror with a side of pants wetting primal fear. Stiles licked his lips and thought about what could cause that. "He's… he's right behind me isn't he?"

Scott nodded; face a few shades paler than normal. The teen wolf opened his mouth, a strangled noise of some sort came out but Stiles couldn't identify what it was. Maybe it was a gasping hiccup? That was sort of adorable, he'd be sure to bring that up at every opportunity to heckle his friend.

"Is he glowing?" Stiles asked. He gesturing towards his own eyes, tried to play it cool and not acknowledge that his voice cracked on the 'he'. Scott nodded and the expression of horror on the young werewolf's face slowly started to become one of amusement.

Stiles sighed and let his arms fall to his sides, arms that had already embraced the inevitable. "He's probably about to grab—" Stiles was interrupted as strong hands seized his arms, spun him around and slammed him into the wall. "Me…" he finished with a squeak.

"This is not a frown. This is a scowl!" Derek snarled into his face.

Stiles licked his lips nervously. Derek's eyes faded from pulsing red to soft green. Derek was once again very much up in his business. He looked over at Scott for help, but his friend shrugged in a way that said 'D plus Vocabulary that bitch'.

Now it was Stiles's turn to sigh. He might have to grovel. He tried a smile but Derek's scowl got… scowlier. He corrected himself, he'd definitely have to grovel.

"Heya, boss… I mean, awesome guy… I mean, Alpha my Alpha! I was just talking about how awesome this weekend is going to be. How you yourself, the orchestrator of that awesome, awesome's very maestro if you will, were the cause of it." Stiles tried to keep his breathing steady and licked his lips nervously.

Derek's scowl lost some of its power. The werewolf tilted his head at Stiles as if he couldn't understand the things coming out of Stiles's mouth.

Stiles's vertigo inducing babbling: one, Derek's scowl powers: zero. Booya!

"Tell me you are ready," Derek commanded.

"I'm ready," Stiles lied. It was a futile exercise, Derek would know that he was lying but the werewolf had also told him very clearly what to say.

"You're lying." Derek's voice became exasperated as he released Stiles and walked over to lean against the wall near Stiles's dresser with his arms crossed. "You know I can tell."

Stiles took a deep breath, finally able to get more air in his lungs after being released from Derek's impromptu wolf hug. He wasn't sure when he had started to think of them as 'wolf hugs' and not threats, probably when every guy he knew except for Danny and his father started partaking in the tradition of the impromptu wolf hug. "But you said—"

"Shut up, pack your suitcase, walk out the door, and get in the van," Derek commanded.

Stiles muttered something he thought was under his breath. The flicker in Derek's eyes of angry red told him that the Alpha had heard his 'well there goes the idea of Jackson getting booze'. He'd have to hope that the jock turned werewolf would have had the sense to have thought of it on his own. Stiles was dubious. Jackson might be pretty, but a cunning master of party planning? Not so much.

"Well, I don't know about you wolf guys, but this guy, this guy is excited for a weekend of bro-bonding no girls allowed shenanigans. Go wolf pack plus token human." Stiles said as he tried to force his suitcase closed over the veritable mountain of clothes and supplies he'd piled into it.

Stiles grunted as Derek came over and casually swatted him away from the suitcase. His mouth fell open in shock as Derek easily forced it closed. Well if the Alpha thing didn't work out Derek could easily make a living as a one man packing and moving outfit. He was about to let Derek know about the brilliant Plan B when Derek crushed his hopes for the weekend into a little itty bitty ball, set it on fire, and then hit it with a nuclear missile.

"I said it's a pack outing." Derek explained in his 'Shut the Hell Up I'm Talking Stiles' tone of voice. "Lydia and Allison are both coming as well, they are pack, you are pack, not a token human, it is one pack, we go together. This is not negotiable."

Stiles deflated like a clown's balloon animal that had been stabbed with a pitchfork. He glanced over and saw Scott sit up and even though it wasn't possible, Stiles would have sworn that the teen's tail was wagging excitedly. It wasn't until that moment that he wished he could perform his own impromptu wolf hug, one that would end with Scott sailing out the window. He imagined Derek starting a slow clap of appreciation with stunned admiration on his face, perhaps a little pride beaming in his eyes.

"Crap," was all Stiles said though. For once he didn't have the words to express his dismay.


	2. The Van is the True Victim

"Let's play I Spy!" Stiles suggested. He turned in the shotgun seat of the rented van to look over at Derek in the driver's seat then back at his friends. Jackson and Lydia were directly behind the driver and passenger seats. Scott and Allison were in the back, Stiles was pretty sure they had been making out before he said anything.

"Shut up Stiles!" Everyone in the car seemed to reply at the same time. Stiles looked at each person wondering if they somehow planned it.

"Well that was rude," he continued as though everyone hadn't shot him down coldly, "I just thought if we were going to do this bonding thing we should do it up right."

"No," Derek's answer was simple and direct.

Stiles sighed. He looked imploringly at the teens in the back. They seemed to be ignoring him. Lydia was rummaging through her purse for something. Jackson stared out the window from his position behind Derek's seat. Scott and Allison looked like they were getting ready to get back into lips all over each other territory.

"While we are at this beach are we going to do some team building exercises? Like am I going to close my eyes and fall back and everyone will catch me because they care about me and my well-being?" Stiles asked.

"I'm not falling into anyone's arms" Jackson said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "The whole idea is stupid."

"You just know that no one would bother catching you because you're a dick," Stiles told him.

Jackson glared. Stiles let it slide off. Jackson's stares were wet puppy kisses when compared to the incredibly staring powers of Derek. Stiles glanced over at the Alpha and thought that Derek's grip on the steering wheel was a little too tight. They'd probably charge him for clench marks when he returned the rental.

"You'd catch me though right Lydia?" Stiles asked.

The strawberry blonde girl had just put ear buds in. She cranked up the music playing from her phone. When she noticed him she just smiled and nodded, clearly not having heard anything that he said and not bothering to ask him to repeat himself. He gave her a thumbs-up and one of his best smiles. She rolled her eyes and looked back down. Maybe it was one of his third rung smiles; no one simply dismissed his best smiles. They were like everyone's kryptonite. He sighed again, returned to looking forward out the windshield.

The California highway leading towards the coast and the beach they were staying at stretched out before him like a giant cement incarnation of hideous boredom. He nervously snapped with his right hand before bringing it to the top of his left fist in combination. He vaguely thought he heard the creak of leather.

"Stiles…" Derek's voice was tight, like he was struggling at maintaining control for some reason.

"Yeah what's up? You want to play that game?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"Let's play the quiet game. Whoever stays quiet the longest wins, whoever loses, I rip their throat out with my teeth," Derek stated flatly. "We start right now."

Stiles glanced back at the other teenagers in the car. No one was paying attention. Jackson probably hadn't even heard Derek's classic throat tearing out with the teeth threat. He should have been writing that kind of stuff down so his threats didn't make him seem like an impotent yammering Chihuahua. Jackson locked eyes with him, almost like he sensed Stiles was emasculating him in his mind. Stiles grinned broadly. Jackson flipped him off.

An hour or two passed in Stiles mind. He looked over at Derek before opening his mouth. Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. Stiles gave him a thumbs-up like the one he'd given Lydia.

"So…" Stiles said.

"Damn it! It's only been five minutes and you can't be quiet!" Derek yelled. Leather creaked under his hands.

Stiles jumped at Derek's outburst. Someone behind him dropped something. Perhaps it hadn't really been an hour or two.

"I just-"

"Shut up Stiles!" Everyone called out in unison again.

Damn they were good at that. If Derek's plan was to cause everyone's anger voices to synchronize into a sort of downer chorus it was succeeding admirably. Stiles decided he wouldn't talk for the rest of the trip. He would see if they liked living in a world devoid of Stiles's rapier wit and sense of humor. He sighed just to drive the point home of course, to let them have a little parting gift to remind them of what they were missing.

Stiles glanced over at Derek. He saw veins bulging in Derek's neck. That was probably not healthy. Dude needed to relax a bit, Stiles opened his mouth to tell him the best way to chill. Derek's eyes flashed. Stiles closed his mouth. He forgot he was punishing them with the lack of his voice.

"Are we there yet?" Jackson asked petulantly.

Stiles grinned. The vein in Derek's forehead started to stand out. Stiles tilted his head to get a better look. Claws sprouted from Derek's fingers. Stiles had never made Derek so angry that the Alpha stabbed him with his dagger nails. Jackson on the other hand had gotten a taste of them on several different occasions. Stiles smirked at Jackson. The new werewolf took a swing at Stiles's head with an open palm.

Stiles leaned forward out of Jackson's reach knowing the seat belt impeded the werewolf's forward movement. He stuck his tongue out. Jackson jerked in the seat. Lydia dropped her phone. She turned a death glare on Jackson that probably made his testicles ache. Lydia was just as proficient at glaring as Derek.

"I swear to god, Stilinksi, I'm going to smash your face in," Jackson threatened.

"Derek, Jackson is talking," Stiles told the Alpha.

"If one more person says anything before we get there I will pull this car over and kill everyone in the van." Derek's voice was full of barely contained rage.

Stiles whistled softly. Derek's hand reached out and grabbed him by the ear, pain spiked out from the Alpha's grip. "Do not test me," Derek said before releasing Stiles's abused ear. Stiles rubbed it sullenly.

Derek turned his attention back to the road. He took deep calming breaths. Stiles wondered how much longer they were going to be in the van. Derek hadn't told them where they were going exactly, only that it was a beach.

A few minutes of silence passed. Stiles thought Derek wouldn't lose control after all but then Scott, who had missed pretty much everything investigating what Stiles assumed was some incredibly delicious flavor of lip balm that Allison had been wearing, leaned forward and called out to Derek, "I have to pee."

The van lurched off the road. The tires screeched as Derek hit the brakes. Stiles looked over at him and saw the Alpha's skin flex and pulse like something was about to burst out of him.

From a safe distance Stiles thought it was hilarious how there was a flurry of activity as everyone struggled to get out of their seat belts, how they had clumsily climbed over each other in a panic to get out of the van and safely away as it began to shake. He wondered how much Derek would have to pay the rental company for the damages.

"This trip is going to be awesome," he said.


	3. Strange Bedfellows

Stiles bounced excitedly as the van pulled into the gravel driveway of the two story beachfront house. It was pale brown wood on the outside, a porch wrapped around the whole lower level and a terrace seemed to mirror it up on the second floor.

"This is going to be so awesome!" he declared. Stiles sounded like he was about to explode with the nervous energy he had accumulated during his time in the van. "There's a huge hammock and a two person hanging swing bench!"

His eyed the hammock with interest, the white rope contraption seemed to have been angled perfectly to catch the light of the sun for most of the day. The bench on the other side looked comfortable as well. "Dibs on the first nap in the hammock!"

"If we would only be so lucky…" Jackson muttered from behind him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles asked. He was sure he did not sound offended.

"It means that the likelihood of you being capable of sleeping instead of bouncing around like an amphetamine laced rabbit is pretty slim," Derek offered from the driver's seat.

"Oh so now you're Mr. Funny Wolf?" Stiles asked as he eyed the Alpha skeptically.

"Dibs on the bathroom" Scott said. Stiles swore the teen werewolf must have had the bladder of an old man.

"I hope my bathroom gets enough natural light…" Lydia spoke quietly. She sounded supremely confident that she would indeed have her own bathroom.

"I think it looks absolutely wonderful!" Allison piped up from the very back of the van, "So romantic!"

Stiles glanced back to the dark haired girl as he unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. That was all they needed for the week, more opportunities for romance. He almost said something to her but the serene look of pure happiness on her face kicked his sarcasm in the gut and left it gasping for air.

She'd gone through a lot, they all had. Allison deserved the happiness she could find. He smiled at her. She tilted her head curiously and smiled back. He was about to say something but Scott caught her attention with another gentle kiss against her cheek. He brushed her hair over her shoulder. Stiles thought maybe his sarcasm might be about to throw up.

"Everyone out, get your bags, take your things inside," Derek commanded as he exited the vehicle.

"Sir, yes sir!" Stiles called out and offered a salute the Alpha never saw before moving around toward the back of the van.

Jackson was climbing out of the vehicle as Stiles walked past the door. The young werewolf pushed him playfully. Stiles shot him a look of mock hurt. Jackson grabbed him around the neck in a headlock.

Awesome, more wolf hugs. He wondered if this was one of those scenting things. When Jackson let him go he shivered a little bit, goose bumps breaking out on his flesh. He was being marked; maybe all the humans in the pack were being marked by the werewolves they accompanied. If anyone tried to pee on him he was so gone, didn't matter how much the taxi cab or bus ride home would cost.

He wondered if Scott and Derek could smell Jackson on him. He made what he imagined was a pretty funny face at the thought of it. He cast an appraising glance toward Scott and noticed he subconsciously seemed to brush against Lydia as he got out of the vehicle. His suspicion was confirmed when Jackson laid an innocuous hand against Allison's arm and offered to pull her luggage out of the back so she could take it inside.

Gravel crunched behind him. Derek grabbed Stiles by the scruff of the neck. Stiles squawked with what he imagined to be extreme dignity as the Alpha steered him to the rear of the van.

"I said, get your stuff and get in the house." Derek used his 'No Nonsense' voice. It sounded suspiciously like his 'Shut Up Stiles I'm Talking' voice. The guy could use some lessons on emoting. Stiles opened his mouth but Derek clenched his neck a little harder and glared. He gestured to the suitcases he parked Stiles in front of. "I didn't say talk; I said get your stuff."

"Well, it's hard for me to do anything with you being all handsy. Not like I can pull you along like you're Santa's fricken sleigh and I'm your adorable prancing reindeer team. How about you pull my suitcase out like a gentlemen and graciously offer to take it inside for me? I will of course refuse because I'm a modern independent individual capable of doing my share of the work. I'm not looking for a hand out; I'm looking for a hand to get my suitcase. I mean, you are the one who finished packing it so you should take responsibility." Stiles took a deep breath. That had been impressive even by his standards.

Derek scowled at Stiles for a few moments and then released him. He grabbed the suitcase with more jerking than was strictly necessary by common law suitcase protection ordinances and thrust it into Stiles arms with enough force that he skidded back a step in the gravel driveway. It was because of his flip flops of course, it's not like Derek could just push him around if he was ready for it. Derek didn't say anything though; he just broke eye contact, grabbed his own suitcase and headed for the house.

Stiles vertigo inducing babbling: two, Derek's scowl powers: zero. Double booya! He was absolutely kicking the crap out of Derek in this game the Alpha didn't know he was involved in.

"You ok?" Scott asked as he came up behind Stiles. He put steadying hands on Stiles's shoulders. Stiles tried not to yelp and jump away. He failed. He failed miserably.

"Yeah buddy I'm great. So great, actually, I'm going to head inside and you know, get a room picked before all the good ones get taken." Stiles was nervous. If the look Scott was giving him was any indication, he probably sounded nervous to people down the street behind locked doors.

"Actually, I think there's only one room left. Allison wanted the one with the ocean view. Lydia picked the one closest to the door, something about not wanting to carry the bags Jackson should be carrying up the stairs," Scott said. "That just leaves whichever room is upstairs down the hall from the loft in the back of the building."

"Awesome we're going to have so much fun rooming together. We have to have at least one regulation pillow fight, maybe two, depends on how much you cheat with your wolf strength. I swear to god though if you snore-howl I'm stuffing wolfsbane in your underwear drawer."

Scott stopped as they entered the house; he had a grave look on his face. Stiles almost didn't notice it as his eyes swept across the amazing living room. Soft white carpets with a huge sectional couch near a widescreen TV and a fireplace. Wickedly equipped kitchen barely visible over what looked like a breakfast island with a pale blue marble countertop.

"What?" Stiles asked. He was distracted and thinking about the double glass doors leading out to the back portion of the wraparound porch. Was that a hot tub out there? Was that a three tiered ramp zigzagging down to the beach through a garden pathway? He must be dead, and despite what everyone said would happen, he made it into heaven. He fist pumped in the air in his excitement.

"Awesome" he said after taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to Scott. His friend looked like he had swallowed something horrible, or maybe that he found out Jackson had peed on him at some point. Stiles shivered at the thought.

"Dude, I'm staying with Allison," Scott said meaningfully. His smile became slightly glazed as he stared off in the direction that Stiles assumed led toward the bedroom with the ocean view.

"Stop that!" Stiles snapped his fingers in front of Scott's face to pull him back from Allison-land. "What do you mean? Who is staying with Lydia then?" Stiles asked the question but he was sure he knew the answer. He couldn't help but hope that he was wrong.

"W-what?" Scott asked eyes becoming focused in the reality everyone else lived in. "What?" he repeated.

"L-Y-D-I-A? Who is she staying with if Allison is bunking it up with you in sin?" Stiles asked.

Jackson brushed past Stiles on his way back out to the van with enough force to cause him to lose balance.

"She's staying with me," the jock called as he walked out the door, "something about working on our issues."

"We're going to work things out because that's what's expected of the two most popular kids in the school. They work things out, they become Prom King and Queen, they live out the fantasies that all the other less fortunate kids dream about at night." Lydia's voice was smooth and precise as she brushed past them patting Stiles on the back consolingly as she headed toward the room Allison was supposedly already unpacking in.

Stiles only barely took note that Lydia was doing it too, the touching. The words bounced around in Stiles's brain, knocking his fun estimation of the week down at least three and a half pegs. Allison came rushing out of the room and engulfed him in an awkward hug. She nearly knocked over his suitcase that was resting against the side of his leg.

"Thank you for being so cool about this, you're a great guy, you're going to make someone really happy!" Allison told him.

When Stiles looked in her eyes, he believed it. Allison giggled as Lydia joined her. They went out the back glass doors but not before Lydia ran what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring hand down his arm. Had everyone but him forgotten about the concept of personal space?

"But…" he whispered to himself, a fourth peg down, "if Scott is with Allison", five pegs, "and Jackson is with Lydia", six pegs down, "then that means…"

"That means we are rooming together. That means you will touch nothing of mine, you will be quiet, and you will do what I say, when I say it, with no arguments. That is, if you want to keep all your fingers," Derek threatened. He poked Stiles in the back and nodded towards the stairs that led up to the second floor.

Stiles nearly howled in frustration. Just like that, all the pegs that were holding up his fun estimation for the week came tumbling down. The metaphorical broken pieces of his fun estimation scattered about his metaphorical feet, mocking him with their metaphorical brokenness.

"Crap…" he said in disbelief.

Derek scowled at him, and he didn't have the heart to fight it. As though walking to his execution he hung his head and hauled his suitcase with him as he climbed the stairs toward what would most certainly be his abrupt and messy death. He glanced over his shoulder once in the hope that someone, anyone, had decided to save him only to be met with that ever present frown/scowl.

"Crap…" he repeated.

Stiles vertigo inducing babbling: two, Derek's scowl powers: one.

_'Well played,'_ he thought as he cast an irritated glance down the stairs at Scott and Jackson who simultaneously waved to him before fist bumping each other, they were doing it to each other as well. Shivers ran down his spine again.

_'Well played indeed.'_ It wasn't over though, and Scott should have known that no one puts Stiles in a corner without getting a heaping bowl of sweet revenge served up to them. He was about to open his mouth and lay down a dire warning of his retribution but Derek pushed him up the last few stairs with a hand placed on Stiles's lower back and began steering him down the hall.

"Crap…" he said one last time resigned to his fate. He had never even gotten to second base with anyone.


	4. No DVD is Safe

"We are not watching The Notebook!" It was a unanimous declaration.

Stiles smiled at the fact that for once, that communal pack voice was not directed at him. He grabbed another pinch of garlic, tossed it into the tomato sauce he had simmering on the stove and cheerfully hummed to himself. He leaned back away from the stove he was slaving over and craned his neck to see the rest of the pack lounging in various positions in the living room.

Lydia was pouting, not used to having people say no to her. Allison patted her arm. Whispered what was probably some sort of reassurance to Lydia's wounded pride.

Stiles glanced back at the sauce. He added a dash of oregano before stretching his other arm out behind him blindly to grab for the wooden spoon resting on the opposite counter. He stirred as he stretched but he wasn't having any luck.

"Can someone come in here for a sec?" Stiles begged. He glanced back toward the living room while his fingers groped futilely for the handle of the spoon. "Anyone there? Guys, hello?"

From Stiles perspective it looked like Scott and Jackson were rummaging through movies they had spread out on the floor. They constantly pushed and pulled on each other, their bromance was getting way out of hand. They looked like one step away from sitting in a tub and washing each other's backs. He sighed wistfully and wished for better days, days when they hated each other. Life was so much simpler when Jackson was an irredeemable ass. Something had changed in the blonde after he'd become a werewolf but Stiles wasn't friendly enough for him to know what it was exactly. Blindly he groped about for the wooden handle. It should have been impossible but somehow it ended up in his hand.

Stiles licked his lips. His face furrowed up in confusion. Had he become psychic? He couldn't spare a glance over his shoulder with the sauce at the critical point of being either exceedingly delicious or tragically mediocre. Stiles was tired of tragically mediocre, now was the time for amazing, it was not the time to question his ascension to the ranks of the supernatural. Now was the time for action, cooking action.

"Something I can do to help?" someone behind him asked.

He dropped the spoon in shock. He winced as it clattered on the tiles of the kitchen floor. It was true, he had become psychic, not only was he psychic, but his power had driven him insane. He recognized the voice, but it was impossible for that voice to have said those words. Yes, he was psychic. That was the only reasonable explanation. He waved his hand experimentally behind him.

"What are you trying to do exactly?" Derek asked. Familiar traces of exasperation crept into the Alpha's voice.

"Do or do not, there is no try." Stiles sagely informed him.

Derek grunted. Stiles was more comfortable now that the older werewolf sounded like he normally did, surly with a hint of impatience, classic Derek. He tried not to swallow his tongue in shock when Derek leaned over and picked up the spoon, washed it in the sink. Stiles blinked when Derek joined him by the stove and began to stir the large pot of boiling pasta.

"That smells good." Derek nodded in the direction of the sauce pan Stiles was working with.

Stiles licked his lips nervously. He couldn't figure out Derek's angle. He seemed to be genuinely not about to tear Stiles throat out, which made Stiles slightly mistrusting. Derek would strike when Stiles least expected it.

"T-thanks." Stiles offered cautiously.

"Derek, tell them we are going to watch The Notebook," Lydia called from the living room.

The Alpha calmly removed the wooden spoon from the pot. He set it on a paper towel Stiles had placed on the counter for that very purpose. He walked into the living room to confront the playfully bickering male werewolves making a mess out of the living room floor. Jackson and Scott were at the epicenter of an expolsion of crumpled chip bags, DVDs, and empty cans of soda and rootbeer.

"Where's The Notebook?" Derek was using his 'Alpha Business Voice', which Stiles thought still sounded like his 'Shut Up Stiles I'm Talking' voice. Had no one ever taught the guy diction?

"Here…" Jackson mumbled. Stiles couldn't see the look on Jackson's face, but he definitely heard the quaver in his voice as he offered the DVD to Derek.

Without looking at anyone Derek took the DVD and walked over to the trash can that Scott and Jackson seemed incapable of using. He snapped the disc and case in half in one swift motion before dropping the pieces into the garbage

"No one is watching The Notebook." Derek said. It was a flat promise of certainty.

Derek's Alpha Strength: One, Chick Flicks: Zero.

Stiles laughed when he heard Jackson and Scott high-five each other. He felt slightly bad for Lydia, but it was probably a good learning experience if she didn't get whatever she wanted all the time.

"We should watch Hoosiers; it's the best sports movie of all time," Jackson suggested.

Without missing a beat, Derek walked back to the two boys and asked them in the same tone of voice he used earlier, "Where's Hoosiers?"

"Right here," Jackson said. He was excited but clearly didn't see where Derek was going, "it's right here."

Derek silently took the case, walked to the trash can, snapped the case with its fragile disc into two pieces and dropped the remains into the trash can. Stiles imagined he could hear both Jackson's tragic suffering and Lydia's righteous vindication.

Derek's Alpha Strength: One, Inspirational Sports Flicks: Zero.

"Stiles is making dinner. He gets to pick the movie. Scott and Jackson are cleaning up the living room because they're slobs. Lydia and Allison are washing and putting away the dishes after dinner." Derek rejoined Stiles in the kitchen.

"I'm not doing the dishes," Lydia stated with calm certainty. Her pride wrapped around her in a protective blanket.

"Wash the dishes or wash Stiles's dirty clothes once we return from the trip," Derek countered.

"I'll wash the dishes." Lydia made it sound as if it was her idea in the first place to salvage the tatters of her dignity.

Stiles thought he should be offended that she made the choice so quickly but he let it go with a sigh of satisfaction that he would not be doing all the work on his own. He was used to it being like that. His father was a busy guy and the house work had to be done by someone. He briefly worried that his father was face deep in a plate of curly fries with cheese sauce and swore to himself he'd call his father after dinner to make sure he was eating right.

Derek moved closer to Stiles and leaned over him sniffing at the sauce. Stiles added more spices to it. He licked his lips nervously. He spooned up a bit of the sauce and held it out toward Derek's face.

"Try for me?" Stiles asked. His voice shook a bit, the kitchen was hot. Derek the werewolf blast furnace standing so close to him was not helping. He felt sweat trickle down his back, he shivered.

The Alpha gave him a suspicious glance. Stiles grinned wondering if Derek thought he had added rat poison to the sauce as a combination of secret revenge and werewolf research. Cautiously Derek reached out and grasped Stiles's wrist to steady the spoon. His lips closed over the edge it, his eyes widened in surprise as he swallowed. "That's amazing," he said after he licked his lips.

"Well don't sound so surprised," Stiles huffed.

"So is there something I can do to help." Derek was being weird. Stiles had no idea why he wasn't being slammed into anything.

"You can dice up those peppers. You know... with the knife or whatever." Stiles mentioned the knife just in case werewolves diced vegetables differently, like with their teeth or claws or frowns or whatever. He shrugged innocently as Derek frowned at him. It forced Stiles's slight smile into a full blown grin. Derek probably thought he was scowling.

"That smells really great.I can't wait to try the food!" Allison called from the living room.

It didn't cause Stiles's chest to swell with pride or anything, or to like, make his insides flip nervously, or cause his eyes to go a little wet. Peppers were probably like onions. Stiles wasn't used to people noticing what he was doing unless it was pissing them off. Allison's honest praise had caught him off guard.

He didn't get to savor the moment for very long though before a hungry Scott crashed into him and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. His best friend stuck his head forward and sniffed at the sauce similar to the way Derek had. The wolf's tummy grumbled loud enough that Stiles had the ridiculous thought that he felt the vibration through Scott's arm. He was going to shoo his friend away but Derek whacked Scott solidly in the back of the head with the wooden spoon and told him to set the table.

Stiles grinned. Derek silently handed him the bowl of diced peppers. He washed the implement of Scott's punishment in the sink. Allison joined them in the kitchen. Without needing to be told what to do she grabbed a strainer from one of the cabinets and began the process of draining the water out of the spaghetti. She winked at Stiles when she noticed he was looking at her. Lydia silently joined Scott at the table, laying down napkins and filling glasses with ice water, straightening things that Scott placed haphazardly with a small smile on her lips.

Derek pulled ingredients for a salad from the fridge and set them near a large bowl before snapping his fingers. Stiles looked over his shoulder and realized that Derek was snapping at Jackson. The newest werewolf was hanging out at the edge of the kitchen, just sort of hovering. He looked a little nervous, maybe a little lonely or left out.

Stiles blinked. That wasn't the type of expression he was used to seeing on the guy. Derek pointed at the bowl and the supplies he had taken out. He handed Jackson a pair of tongues to mix everything together with. Jackson smiled and Stiles realized that Jackson was genuinely happy to be included in what was going on, to be a part of what they were doing.

They gathered around the dinner table, Allison and Scott next to each other on one side, Jackson and Lydia on the other. Derek sat directly across from Stiles at the head of the table. Stiles couldn't help but laugh at Scott and Jackson fighting over the garlic bread. He tried to brush it off when Allison and Lydia complimented him on his culinary skill. This trip was turning out to be as awesome as he had hoped it would be, in ways he had never dreamed that it could have been and it was only the first day.

Stiles watched his friends, looked towards Derek and saw something that he never thought he would. At the other end of the table, when he thought no one was watching, Derek smiled. Derek noticed Stiles watching him. His face went blank. Stiles winked at him, trying to let the Alpha know that it would be their little secret. Derek nodded slightly, like maybe somehow he understood. Stiles grinned; the brief smile wouldn't stop him from calling Derek 'Frowny' again in the future but he wouldn't spoil the moment they were having right now.

Derek held Stiles's gaze for a few moments. The two of them shared something the other four missed. That was alright. Everything about the moment was perfect, the easy camaraderie of the pack, the laughter, the sense of family and belonging. It was probably the reason Derek had brought them out in the first place. Derek's plan was working perfectly. Stiles would be damned before he'd give Derek the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Derek's expression suddenly turned curious at what was probably a goofy grin plastered all over his face but that was ok too. Derek didn't need to know everything.


	5. The Power of the Wolf Hug

The hallway to the bedroom Stiles was sharing with Derek was dark, the Alpha had gone to bed but the slightly younger members of the pack had stayed up late playing card games and making a huge dent in the week's supply of snacks. They'd have to go grocery shopping before they left if they kept up the incredible rate of consumption. Stiles thought he could eat a lot, but two teenage werewolves and three other growing teens was a recipe for world famine. He imagined they ate a small European country's supply of Cheetos.

He cursed more loudly than he intended when he stubbed his toe on the leg of the table that decorated one side of the hallway. Stiles bit down on one of his knuckles to keep from making too much noise. Sure Derek had been nice most of the evening, if you weren't a DVD, but he didn't want to wake the sleeping wolf. He pulled out his phone. He used the screen to cast a faint luminescence ahead of him.

He made his way the last few feet to the door quitely. Stiles wouldn't say that he was a ninja but he would say that he could be pretty damn quiet despite what most people thought. Living life as a sheriff's son had necessitated the need to learn a bit of stealth. His father didn't always work late on nights when Stiles wanted to get up to a bit of mischief.

He slowly turned the handle of the door and muted the light of his phone by turning it against his chest. It was practically pitch black, a small alarm clock with a red display gave him the rough location of the bed he was sleeping in for the week.

Stiles had been surprised when Derek had let him have first pick of the beds. Derek had been amused when Stiles took the one that was not adjacent to the window without offering any explanation. There was a terrace that ran all around the second floor and their room even had a set of doors that led out to it, but Stiles thought maybe Derek wasn't comfortable unless he could creep in and out of windows. He snickered at the thought and covered his mouth with his hand. He froze in place.

No monstrous black form that could cause a child's average nightmares to soil themselves in fear snatched his heart from his chest. Stiles sighed in relief and took the last few steps to reach the side of his bed. Quiet as a mouse he set his phone down on the side of the nightstand, before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. Derek could bite his head off about where his clothes were in the morning. Stiles just wanted to get undressed and under the covers. Even though it was summer the California night air had a bit of a chill to it. It would suit Stiles perfectly just as soon as he was under the soft blankets.

Stiles undid his belt and let his jeans fall to the floor. He winced as the buckle made a soft thud against the carpet. He wanted to freeze in place but he was cold. He danced a little from foot to foot trying to free himself from the labyrinth of his pants and almost went head first into the nightstand. That was exactly what he needed, to have Derek find him with his pants around his ankles bleeding from a head wound on the carpet of their room. That would have been terrible, the kind of embarrassment one never lived down.

There was a brief somewhat high pitched noise and a rustling; the suddenness of it nearly caused Stiles to jump out of his skin. He clutched his hand over his heart and gasped for air in the quietest way one could do such a thing. He glanced in the direction the noise had come from. It was in the general vicinity of the bed Derek was theoretically occupying.

Stiles shook his head to dismiss it as his imagination and sat down on his bed gingerly, hoping to avoid any noise as he pulled one sock off and then the other. He dropped them on top of the rest of his discarded clothes. He reached out to grab his phone from the nightstand to set an alarm for the morning. His hand accidently brushed the picture frame he had set up while unpacking. It tilted, he barely caught it before it fell over and awakened the shadow of death that lingered in the other bed. He didn't know for sure but he figured if annoying Derek while he was awake was dangerous, annoying him while sleeping was probably a great way to throw your life away.

Stiles turned slightly so that his back was to where the other bed rested against the far wall and tried to use his body to shield the light as he flipped his phone screen on to reveal the picture in the frame. An image of his mother looked back at him; she was winking and had a small fey smile upon her face. Most people didn't realize because they hadn't gotten to know her but he had gotten his mischievous side from his mother. She loved to laugh, tease, and play practical jokes on her family. She was the kindest person he'd ever known.

He sat there, effectively alone in the darkness. Memories swept him up, took him back to days when he looked at the world with a child's eyes. Moments in time flickered through his mind. His mother helping him build the perfect Halloween costume to scare the other children, a sun drenched meadow and a white and red checkered blanket, the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that had ever been crafted. Soft warm hands rubbing vapor medicine into his chest to soothe him when he was sick. They were all he had of her. She had been vibrant and loving. She had whispered her secrets to him when she put him to bed, little dreams and wishes for his future. They used to stay up late together when his father was at work. They would worry for his father's safety; she would clutch him tight to her chest and stroke his hair. She reassured herself that nothing would happen by reassuring him.

Stiles sucked in a ragged breath. It sounded like it was coming through the figurative hole in his chest her death had left. Tears stung his eyes, he closed them, took a deep breath and tried not to get swept away by the sudden flux in his emotions. It had been years since he had a panic attack. He'd told Scott about it when his friend had undergone one of his own. They were not fun. He wasn't sure exactly what had provoked the chain reaction tearing through his emotions. Maybe it was that tonight, with the dinner and games, it was the first time he had felt like part of a complete family in a long time. He loved his father more than anything, but it was hard to be a family of two when one of them worked long hours to provide for them.

He was glad that he had called home after the pack had finished eating. His dad confirmed that Mrs. McCall had come over with dinner for him. Stiles had asked Scott's mother to watch out for his dad while he was gone. She had agreed saying that after taking care of Scott, the sheriff would be easy.

He set the picture and the phone down and wrapped his arms around his body. He shivered in the evening's chill. He was going to suggest they should turn the heat on at night. He stood to pull the covers back when another of the strange noises emanated from the opposite side of the room. It was followed by a low mumble. He squinted toward the direction where Derek should have been resting. He wondered if the werewolf was making the noise.

Carefully and quietly, with the focus and stealth only children up to no good could normally muster, Stiles crept towards the werewolf's bed. He must have had a death wish; it was the only explanation for embarking on such a ridiculous journey. Frodo thought the trip to that mountain of fire was bad? That little dude had never had to tiptoe across several feet towards Derek Hale's bed. Stiles didn't even have a reliable little companion with a frying pan as backup.

He took one step, then a breath because he was still alive and that's what the living did. He took a second step. His hands began to shake because of the cold, not because he was terrified of Derek pulling his heart directly out of his rib cage. He took a third step. He realized that he was creeping towards Derek's bed wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. At least when Derek snuck up on him he was fully clothed. He looked back over his shoulder. In the far distance, a lifetime away, the red light of the alarm clock reminded him ominously of Derek's angry eyes.

He should have peed before he started stalking towards the other side of the room. At least that way when Derek rose from the bed like a vengeful Angel of Death he wouldn't soil himself. Too late now for logic, too late to turn back, one more step and he was at the side of Derek's bed. The slightly high pitched noise came again. It caused Stiles to spasm in fear, his mouth hanging open and his tongue darting over his lower lip nervously.

Stiles's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He could faintly see Derek. The man was sprawled out face down on the bed under covers that had been half kicked off. The Alpha's right arm hung off the side of the bed. Rather than resting with his head on the pillow, his left cheek was right on the edge of the mattress, like he had been slowly subconsciously dragging himself off of it.

The noise came again. Stiles realized what it was as he watched Derek's body momentarily shake in place. It was some sort of whine of fear, like Derek was having some sort of terrible nightmare and couldn't escape it. His canine nature more fully revealed itself without his conscious mind to hold it back. It was one of the most heart breaking things he'd ever seen.

Derek, the Alpha, the force of nature, the living embodiment of cool confidence, self possession, and barely controlled power, was shaking in his sleep. He was terrified of something in his own mind. Stiles wasn't sure what he should do. On the one hand, he could try to wake Derek up, then assuming he still had all of his limbs he could try to explain to Derek why he was in his underwear and poking him. On the other hand, he could quietly sneak back to his bed, cover his head with his pillows and try to forget the look of naked fear and pain that marred Derek's features and feel guilty for the rest of his life for being such a coward. Neither of those options sounded very good.

He thought long and hard about what he knew about Derek, werewolves, and wolves. There had to be something he could do. Derek's face constricted in fear. The sad noise came again. It tore at Stiles's insides. What did werewolves do in general? They slammed him into walls and they growled a lot. That was not very helpful. Stiles didn't want to die a virgin so the idea of slamming Derek into a wall with an impromptu wolf hug was out of the question.

A stroke of brilliance or a terrifyingly twisted urge to kill himself hit Stiles. The wolf hug. That was the key. Wolves comforted each other pressing themselves against each other. They nuzzleed, lick each other's faces. They just touched each other. That was the solution and possibly what they would put on his tombstone.

_'Here lies Stiles Stilinski, who should not have wolf hugged Derek Hale.'_

He held his breath as he leaned forward, tried not to flinch when Derek jerked in his sleep issuing another whine of fear. Stiles brought his forehead down to the back of Derek's head. He stroked the arm that was hanging off the bed with one hand and rubbed the other across the Alpha's shoulder. He nuzzled his face against Derek's soft hair.

"Shhh, you're going to be fine. I'm here, we're all here." Stiles whispered as quietly as he could while still remaining audible. "You're not alone anymore."

Derek's trembling stopped. His breathing evened out. Stiles smiled against the man's head and continued his soothing strokes. "We're not going anywhere, we're family. We're your pack."

Stiles hadn't realized how tired he was until the adrenaline of his own fear drained out of him. Derek's skin was so warm compared to the rest of the room. His hair smelled good too, which was something Stiles had certainly never expected to learn. He held onto Derek for a bit longer, probably longer than was necessary but he wanted to soak in the warmth for the treacherous journey back across the room to his own bed. He also wanted to make sure that Derek was fine, that he knew he was safe and surrounded by people who cared about him, even if none of them were good at showing it yet.

He rubbed his face into Derek's hair again. He patted the werewolf's back and ran his fingers over the palm of Derek's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. "We're right here with you" he whispered again, "right here."

He slowly got to his feet, careful not to disturb the Alpha and made his way back to his own bed. He barely suppressed a yawn as he went. He pulled back the covers and climbed in, burrowed into the sheets to create a cocoon of warmth with the heat of his body, and maybe the lingering heat of Derek's.

He drifted in and out of the space between being awake and being asleep for a long time. As the warm and comforting darkness seeped into his mind, he thought he heard a faint voice, but it was probably his imagination.

"Thanks Stiles…" it said, but it probably wasn't real, because Stiles just did what he thought was right. No one ever really noticed him, not unless they wanted to strangle him.


	6. Stiles's Secret Weapon

"Wake up."

The voice of Stiles's tormentor drilled into his skull through the haze of his lovely sleep. He would not waver under its intensity. He would stand his ground and not give in.

"Nnggghh," he tried diplomatically. Sometimes it was best to use honey instead of vinegar.

"Wake up," the voice said again.

It was an evil voice that wanted Stiles to suffer. Relentless was the evil demon who sought to wrestle him from the warmth and comfort of his bed, but he, being the paragon of virtue that he was, would not be led astray. He would speak boldly to the demon and cast it from his presence.

"Go way!" It was a command given with the strength and conviction only truly great men could muster. He put his pillow over his head, a clear sign that great things were at work and should not be disturbed.

A monster seized his blankets and tore them from his grasp. Freezing cold air coiled around him, pricked the tender skin of his back with needles of ice. Lashes of unforgiving morning air leeched the warmth from his body. His toes curled and his fingers flexed. He wanted to cry out against the cruel god who had forsaken him by allowing some monster with no soul to steal his blankets and leave him abandoned, gasping for warmth in a bed that wished for him to stay with it.

"Bed needs me," he told the beast that hounded him.

The bed needed him; the pillows would be lonely without his face to keep them company. The covers, the poor covers, he could hear them crying out for him to save them from the beast that had so cruelly snatched them from their home. They wanted him to pull them back over his body to share his warmth with them and keep them safe, to show them the love they deserved.

"Wake up," the voice commanded.

This foe was powerful. If it could not be reasoned with, if it could not be commanded to cease, there was only one thing left for Stiles to do. He would fight. Fight for the right of all teenage boys to stay in bed until they were not tired, to love and trust and hold close their covers and pillows. He would strike a true blow against the oppression of those who would pull others from their bed, who would do so for no reason other than they were full of malice and spite and they hated kittens and puppies and all the good things in the world. The beast probably hated pancakes too, because the beast seemed to be an asshole, and only assholes did not love and cherish maplely sugary syrupy covered goodness. He would fight because there was no one else to wage the war for comfort.

Stiles would be that hero; he would do all of those things. He wanted to do them later though. He curled into a fetal position clutching his pillow between his elbows and knees. He wished he was small enough to use the pillow case as a sleeping bag. He wished that he had more on than his underwear. He wished that the creature who hated him so much would take mercy and leave him in peace.

"Wake up," his adversary said again. It was unshakable, unreachable by logic, unafraid, it seemed unbeatable.

It was time to pull out the big guns. His secret weapon, that which he would not use unless he was in the direst of positions. He knew that with great power came great responsibility, and this power required control, finesse, and was greatly aided by sleepy blinking and rubbing of the eyes. Now was the time to strike. His opponent's resolve would crumble before him. He would stand victorious. Well actually he would lay victorious but whatever.

He rolled onto his back. He stretched, arching up off the bed slightly using his shoulders and neck, rubbing one hand over his tummy and using the back of the other to wipe sleepily at his eyes. He kept his eyes closed, dropped his arms lazily back to the bed. He turned his head in the direction of the voice that had been so cruel. The time had come. He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at the towering form of Derek, who looked down on him, then he executed his counter offensive. He pouted.

"S'just five more minutes," he said.

Derek blinked at him; clearly trying to resist the power of Stiles's pouting lips. Stiles could wait. He could do this all day. No one could stand against it. Derek's resolve seemed to waver. Stiles blinked sleepily again, pulled his arms over his chest trying to clutch in the last remaining vestiges of the warmth that was abandoning him. Derek met his eyes and the hand that had thieved Stiles's covers jerked almost involuntarily. Fine, Derek had asked for it. It wasn't Stiles's fault that he had been pushed so far. He tilted his head slightly, made eye contact through his half-closed eyelids and licked his lips. It was like cocking a loaded gun, Derek had no idea what was going to hit him.

"Please?" Stiles begged. He curled his lower lip into his mouth, caught it between his teeth as he looked pleadingly into Derek's green eyes. He rocked back and forth while clutching his arms around his body, "s'cold."

Derek dropped the covers back onto him.

"Five minutes, then I will come back here, I will pull you from that bed, and I will toss you into the shower myself," Derek warned him.

Stiles curled the blankets back around his nearly naked form, luxuriating in their caressing touch. He welcomed the warmth back as though it were a playful lover that he had finally been reunited with. He let out a low moan of satisfied pleasure. It was a soft rumble in his chest.

"Kay," he said as his eyes fluttered closed again.


	7. Clinging Heat

Stiles yawned as he shuffled pitifully out of his room. He stumbled; his bare feet got tangled in the blue and white plaid legs of his pajama pants that were a little too large. They sat low on his hips. He hadn't tied them because no one in the morning had the energy for such intricate details. He struggled to find the head and arm holes in the sleeveless blue t-shirt he was failing to put on. With his mind occupied by the Rubik's Cube of a shirt he walked straight past the stairs while unable to see and slammed boldly into the wall.

"Owie," he mumbled to himself. His head popped free of his shirt along with one arm. He was pretty sure that the shirt was on backwards. His pants may have been inside out in addition to being untied, but those were also details that were irrelevant without coffee. There were things in the world that just didn't matter until he had some warm caffeine coursing through his bloodstream.

He could smell it in the air, a sweet French vanilla aroma that called to him. It whispered sweet nothings that had him hooked like a fish, only without the unnecessary and cruel pain, because there was no pain, there was only deep longing. Longing to let the heat and aroma rise out of the mug and caress his face. He finally unraveled the enigma that was his shirt. He got his other arm out the way it was supposed to but not without missing the last step and stumbling. He slammed into a marble statue.

"Hey watch it Stilinksi!" The statue turned out to be Jackson.

"M'sorry." Stiles apologized. He rubbed at his eyes as he swayed back and forth.

"You ok man?" Jackson asked.

Jackson was giving him emotional whiplash. One moment the blonde was threatening him, the next he was trying to comfort him. Stiles wobbled unsteadily as Jackson wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders and guided him toward the kitchen. Without coffee he could not fight the good fight against the invasion of his personal space. He just accepted for the moment that everyone in the house wanted to rub on each other.

"Scott and I are getting ready to go for a morning run, you should come with." Jackson deposited him at a stool at the breakfast island. Stiles only barely grunted as his neck, which lacked the ability to support his head any longer, gave out and he face planted onto the marble counter top.

"Double owie" he lamented to the cool blue marble.

"Is that going to be ok?" Lydia asked.

Stiles had no idea what the 'that' she was referring to was. He hoped that it wasn't something that would drink all his coffee, if that happened, he'd probably cry. It'd be an ugly cry too, there'd be sobbing, wet rattling heaving and he'd need more tissues than they had in the house.

"He'll be fine; he's not a mornings kind of guy." Scott explained.

Stiles was confused. His friend must have teleported in from nowhere. That was the only explanation that Stiles could come up with. One moment there was no Scott, the next there was Scott. It was just like magic, only with puppies instead of rabbits or doves.

"I'll get him some coffee," Allison said. Just like that she became his new best friend, Scott be damned.

"Let's go McCall; I can't wait to leave you in the dust," Jackson called out.

"You wish! You make it seem like you'll even be able to see me when I'm finished," Scott called back.

"Stop flirting!" Stiles mumbled into the countertop.

"What?" the two young werewolves said in unison.

"Here you go Stiles you want any cream or milk?" Allison asked. She reached out and rubbed her hand over his short hair comfortingly.

"Imma have yer babies," he told her seriously. The dark haired girl giggled as she added a dash of milk to the coffee and set the mug a hair away from his nose. "All yer babies," he confirmed.

"No way buddy she's taken," Scott said. He punched Stiles lightly in the arm as he dropped a huge bowl of cereal next to the cup of coffee. It was full of Lucky Charms, the milk in it was chocolate milk, and the spoon was a big spoon, a really big spoon. Scott was back on top for best friend, too bad for Allison but Lucky Charms were the business of delicious.

"Imma have yer babies too… or litter… or whatever," Stiles mumbled. Scott blinked at him as though he was speaking a foreign language but Allison just laughed delightedly. Scott punched him again.

"Whatever dude," Scott said as he looked at something behind Stiles, it was probably his brofriend. "Let's go, Jackson."

"Been ready, McCall. You and Stilinski done?" Jackson said.

"Don't be jealous," Lydia said as she peered into Stiles's bowl of deliciousness dubiously. Apparently she had noticed the same thing Stiles had in regards to the browolves. "Ready to go, Allison? I want to hit the strip and get a new bikini for this afternoon."

Stiles didn't say anything but he raised an eyebrow at Lydia brushing her hand over Allison's back. The girls were doing it to each other too. The world was an insane place.

"Ready!" Allison said. She kissed Scott on the cheek, patted Stiles on the back, then slapped Jackson playfully on the arm. "Don't get him too riled up!"

"You wouldn't like him when he's angry," Stiles supplied helpfully. He was starting to feel alive again. He lifted his head from the countertop and took a deep breath from directly over the mug of coffee. "So good," he mumbled. He put a huge spoonful of the cereal in his mouth, moaned at the pure heaven of it.

Lydia blinked at him for a moment before turning away. She gave Jackson a professional and sort of forced looking hug then headed out of the front door with Allison in her wake. Stiles watched Scott and Jackson pile out onto the back porch then jog off down the ramp that led to the beach below. They were already jostling each other as they went with elbows and shoves.

Just like that Stiles was alone in the house. He hadn't seen Derek since he had tried to wake him up earlier. He shrugged, greedily consumed his Lucky Charms and sipped at the coffee. Everyone would be back soon enough, he'd just take a shower and then they could get started having some real fun as a group. He had planned so many activities; he was going to blow the pack's collective mind.

He quickly finished off the cereal but took his time savoring the flavor of the chocolate milk that was left in the bowl. He rinsed out the bowl and dropped it, as well as the spoon in the dishwasher, grabbed his cup of coffee and headed back up the stairs. The warmth of the mug felt good in his hands. He placed it against his face for a few seconds as he walked down the hall and into the room he was sharing with Derek.

The Alpha's bed was neatly made; nothing of his was visible in the room save his suitcase leaning against the wall. Stiles glanced at his side of the room and couldn't help but notice the remarkable differences. The picture of his mother along with his charging cell phone rested on the nightstand. He set his cup of coffee down next to his phone. He glanced at his discarded clothes which were still in a pile on the floor. The bed was a disaster of tossed around sheets and blankets, one of the pillows looked about to fall off the far side of the bed.

He shrugged and went over to retrieve his bathroom bag from his suitcase. Deodorant check, toothbrush check, toothpaste check, shampoo check, body wash check, shower puff thing he had no idea the official name for check, mouthwash check, floss check. Looks like it had everything he needed. He opened the top drawer of the dresser that had his clothes in it and grabbed a pair of boxers at random.

He hadn't been in the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom yet. He'd only used the one that was downstairs so he was looking forward to finding out what kind of shower or bathtub was in it. He walked in and set his stuff down on the counter, it had a side by side sink and the room was huge enough that two people could easily maneuver around each other. Everything was white and beige, a few dark brown accents here and there. He pulled his shirt over his head as he walked towards the elaborate steam shower that occupied the far wall.

He dropped the shirt onto the ground and pulled the sliding glass door open. Inside was the most amazing contraption he'd ever seen. It had three shower heads, one on each of the opposing walls as well as a large rain simulating one in the middle of the ceiling. It looked like it could easily accommodate two if not three people. He wondered idly if anyone ever held shower parties. That could be fun. He noticed there were plenty of towels on a rack above the toilet and that there was one stretched out over a bar placed in the wall near the shower.

He turned all the faucets on and let the water get steamy before he turned on all the shower heads. He was looking forward to pampering himself. He walked back to the sink and unpacked his supplies on the side that was not occupied, the one closest to the door. The only things on the other were a red handled toothbrush, a tube of the same type of toothpaste that he used, and a bottle of mouthwash that was a light blue in color. He wondered what it smelled like. He didn't want to be a creeper and start poking around in the medicine cabinet and inspecting Derek's stuff.

He brushed his teeth, flossed, and used his mouthwash. With his mouth feeling minty fresh, and longing for the heat that was pouring out of the steam shower he shimmied out of his pants and underwear, grabbed his shower stuff and entered the closest thing on earth to heaven.

Hot water poured over him. He sighed in contentment. He placed his shampoo and body wash in the empty rack under the right side shower head. He adjusted the sprays of both the side nozzles and then went and stood looking up into the middle one on the ceiling, eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. He ran his hands aimlessly over his body feeling the heat spreading through him. He let his head lull forward and placed his hands on the wall in front of him, his back to the shower's sliding doors.

"God this is good," he commented to himself. He let the water sweep over him for a few minutes before he retrieved his shampoo and gave his hair a thorough washing, shaking his head in the hot torrent of the right nozzle, the left one's spray hitting his lower back and legs.

Lazily he grabbed his shower scrubby and poured a generous amount of the body wash onto it. He rubbed and squeezed it in his hands until it started to put up a foamy lather. He brought it to his chest and sighed happily at the soft material's drag against his skin. He ran it up his neck and over both shoulders, squeezing it slightly and feeling the soapy water drip down his back. He brought it back and swiped it across his chest; the material caught lightly on one of his nipples. He gasped softly and shivered at the sensation.

Stiles hadn't been planning to pamper himself so much but he was starting to get a little hard and the steam and heat all over his body locked him in a full body tingle of pleasure. He dragged the material back across his other nipple, lightly biting his lower lip at the feeling of it. He added more wash to the material in his hands before running it over his stomach and into the light dusting of hair at his crotch.

He backed up so that he was under the middle spray, legs spread in a wider stance as he leaned back against the wall of the shower. The lightly cool tile sent shivers down his spine. He ran his hand holding the scrubby over his groin and hissed out a satisfied breath. He was definitely interested in pampering himself now that he was at full attention. He switched the scrubber to his left hand, brought it back up and rubbed his stomach with it. He gripped himself with his free hand, pulled and twisted a bit to send pleasure coursing through his body.

He breathed out a little sound of bliss as he ran the material in his left hand over his nipples. He opened his eyes and panted into the heat cloying around him, looked down at the flushed red skin of his cock. He dropped the scrubby and ran his left hand back down over his stomach then gripped himself at the base. With his right hand he twisted and pulled again, ran his fingertips lightly over the head and teased the sensitive skin that flared out at the base of the tip.

His hips jerked forward instinctively as he tightened his grip around the head again before sliding down to the base in a smooth grip. He gasped, his lungs felt like they were full of steam, water cascading on him from three angles. He leaned forward and felt the heat slide down his back and over his ass.

Stiles let his left hand dip a little further, caressed his balls as he continued pumping with his right. His toes were curled a bit; he rocked back and forth in place. New heat, wonderful searing aching heat pooled in his belly. He turned around slowly, not losing the rhythm his hands were creating on his body, leaned his forehead against the wall.

The cool tile was a comfort against his flushed skin. He was shaking with the pleasure spiking through his body. He panted, ran his tongue over his lips. He whispered things to himself, babbled about how good it felt, how hard he was, he wasn't sure why but it was just something he did, gasped and moaned and was loud about expressing how he felt even though there had never been anyone to hear him.

Tremors of pleasure rocked his body. He went up on tiptoes, biting his lips lightly again, they felt slightly swollen. He twisted and pulled himself with renewed purpose, needing to hit that critical moment that would leave him breathless. He gasped as he came up on the edge and tumbled over. His legs shook with the force of his pleasure, he painted the wall as the tension in his body released. He gasped and felt boneless, cheek against the wall of the shower.

"So good," he mumbled to himself. He lazily stroked a few more tingling moments of pleasure out of the experience. He was breathing heavily, felt like he'd just run several miles. Lassitude spread through his muscles. He relaxed into the feeling.

After a few more moments of light touches he stood up straight, retrieved his shower scrubby and added more wash to it. He kind of had to start over a little to make sure he was clean but he didn't mind. There were some things he didn't mind taking a bit of extra time on. He'd be lucky if he made it out of the shower before lunch time.


	8. Setting Fire to the Bridges

It was late in the morning when Stiles was finally dressed. He walked down the stairs into the living room. He looked around. No one seemed to be in the house. He walked over and looked out the front door. The van wasn't parked in the gravel driveway. Perhaps Derek had gone into town after seeing the void in the cabinets where snack food used to be. Whistling to himself he knocked on the door to Allison and Scott's room, hopefully they wouldn't be in the middle of making out. He wanted to see what they wanted for lunch. He was going to make up a picnic basket so they could all hang out on the beach.

There was no answer. That sucked, maybe they were outside. He went over to Lydia and Jackson's room, knocked on their door as well. No response came. He sighed, pulled out his phone. There were no messages. He dropped the phone back into the pocket of the cargo shorts he was wearing. He head towards the front door, slipped his feet into flip flops as he went. Everyone had a key of their own so it wasn't like anyone could be locked outside.

He made a circuit around the porch. He felt silly about wanting to call out for his friends. No one was there. He went back inside, noting that the bathroom door was open. He went up to the second floor and out onto the terrace. His stomach grumbled, hungry for something more than the Lucky Charms he'd given it earlier.

Stiles walked around the terrace, looked down the small slope that led down to the beach. He couldn't see anyone. It was like the whole world was empty except for him. He swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. Where was everyone? He decided he'd just pack a variety of things into the basket. If some people didn't like what he had it would be their own fault. They should have been around when he was making them food.

He went back inside, headed down to the kitchen. Stiles opened the fridge, started grabbing all sorts of things. Cold cuts, vegetables, condiments, and fresh fruits. He piled it all up on the counter. He added a jar of peanut butter, two kinds of jelly as well as a loaf of bread. He pulled out his phone. There were no messages, no missed calls. He shrugged, went about the work of preparing what everyone would declare was the most amazing lunch spread they'd ever seen.

Stiles worked happily, listened to music playing from his phone. He didn't glance at the front door or the doors that led to the back very often; it wasn't like he was worried he'd been abandoned by everyone. He chewed on his lower lip as he made the food.

When he was finished and the basket he had purchased solely for the occasion was nearly bursting with yumminess he glanced at his phone again. It was sort of past lunch time. There were still no messages on his phone, no missed calls. He glanced out the back door, there was no one on the beach that he could see.

He went out and spent some time in the hammock, played video games on his phone. He chuckled to himself as birds sought vengeance against the pigs who'd wronged them. The hammock was comfortable, but after an hour his stomach reminded him that he was not the master, that it was time to pay tribute.

He hopped out of the hammock, walked down the driveway to look both directions down the road. No pretty strawberry blonde with her arms full of shopping bags appeared. There wasn't a young couple holding hands and whispering secrets to each other running up breathless and happy to be back at the house. He walked around to the back and glanced down towards the beach again. There wasn't a blonde athlete swimming in the water or basking in the late afternoon sun. Hell, there wasn't even an intimidating man who only wore black scowling at anyone who seemed to be having fun.

Stiles went back inside, noticed his phone battery was almost dead. He walked back up to his room, plugged it in to charge. He must have sent too many pigs' houses tumbling down. His phone hadn't rang, hadn't notified him that anyone was wondering where he was or what he was doing. Stiles went back downstairs, figured that it was time to eat alone. It sounded awesome…

He pulled a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of the basket along with an apple; he snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and headed out the back doors. He locked them behind him. The clicking sound it made left Stiles's empty stomach feeling worse. He meandered down the zigzagging ramp and onto the warm sand, felt the heat of the late afternoon sun on his face. He didn't bring a jacket, his cargo shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops were all he needed to have a great day at the beach. A great day by himself…

He walked east along the beach, it made just about as much sense as anything else, not like he knew what was west either. The houses seemed pretty far apart, they were all part of the resort, the entire beach was open to the renters. It wasn't like he was trespassing. It wasn't like there was anyone to yell at him, to tell him to shut up or ask him what he was talking about or why he couldn't just stand still for five minutes.

He ate the sandwich as well as the apple as he walked, deposited the core and the plastic the sandwich had been wrapped with into a trash receptacle as he passed it. There were identical ones spaced out around the area with polite signs asking people to keep the beach clean. He took off his flip flops, carried them in his hand. He stepped gingerly in the hot sand, occasionally cooled his feet off by walking through the waves lapping against the shore.

Stiles watched the shadows on the beach lengthen as he walked. He sat down and gazed at the ocean. The sun was starting to set, he wasn't sure where he was exactly, but knew that all he had to do was turn around and walk west to make it back. He got up, decided to keep exploring the beach in the fading light.

Stiles loved the brilliant blue water, was fascinated by several brightly colored shells he came across. He picked some of them up, filled his pockets with them. He wanted souvenirs. Occasionally he saw couples or small groups of friends playing volleyball or sunbathing. Sometimes they were laughing; sometimes they were whispering to each other or kissing. None of them were people he knew.

A few pretty girls waved at him. He smiled nervously and waved back, a couple of guys who were not bad looking did the same. He wasn't sure what to do at first so he just waved back to them too.

He found a small cove with several tide pools in it, set about exploring the area. He added more shells to his collection, drank the rest of his water. He kept the bottle; he'd throw it away when he found another trash bin. He sat on the rocks of the cove, watched the most brilliant sunset he'd ever seen.

It was like someone had drawn a blanket of orange over the horizon. The sun fell behind clouds, brilliant rays of light struggled against the oncoming night. They tryied to hang on, to give out more of their life sustaining warmth. The sphere was reflected in the water, dancing golden flames played with each other on the surface. The sun of the air and the sun of the water eventually sank into each other. Yellow faded to orange, orange became crimson, and crimson gave way to purple before finally there was no natural light left. It was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. He wished there'd been someone to share it with.

The night was still fairly well illuminated, houses had lights on, the glow of the street lamps from up the hills towards the road was more than enough to see by. He decided to head back west, maybe some of the pack had returned to the house, maybe they were done doing whatever they were doing that they didn't want him to be a part of.

They probably weren't excluding him purposefully; Scott and Allison were likely just caught up in their love and their laughter. Jackson was probably just caught up doing whatever it was that Lydia wanted them to do. Derek was probably looking for people having fun so that he could stop them.

He chuckled. Derek had actually surprised him, especially when helping him with dinner. He thought back about the previous night, about how vulnerable Derek looked asleep, he didn't think about how warm Derek's skin was or how good his hair smelled. That would be weird, that would be very weird.

"Hey bro!"

Stiles looked around, saw a blonde surfer guy waving at him from a group of people who looked to be building a fire. It didn't seem to be working out so well for them. He decided to see what they were up to; they looked just a few years older than him. They also looked like a beach clothing advertisement.

"Hey," Stiles said. He licked his lips, shifted from foot to foot in the sand.

"You know how to build a fire?"

Stiles looked at the blonde surfer. Most of the group turned to regard him. He could smell the booze in the area. He didn't really know how to build a fire, but he was sure he was smart enough to figure it out.

"Yeah sure no problem, I'm practically Prometheus."

"Is that Italian?"

A pretty girl with red hair watched him curiously. He shrugged under her scrutiny.

"It's uh- it's nothing I was just joking."

Stiles glanced around, noticed that a guy who seemed more his age near the back of the group had a knowing smirk on his face. Stiles grinned at the guy, got closer to the fire pit.

It took a lot of sweat and cursing but Stiles got the fire going. The beach crew cheered. The guy who got his Prometheus joke earlier, who had fascinating blue eyes, blonde hair, and an enigmatic smile offered him a beer. Stiles bit his lower lip for a moment. He accepted it and joined a group of people who seemed to want his company.

One beer became a few, then a few more. Stiles drank too much, the guy with the smile was getting a little too close for his comfort. He was constantly touching him, trying to put an arm around his shoulders. He probably wouldn't have cared because the guy was nice, he was good looking, and Stiles was very drunk, but the touching reminded him of his pack. Thinking of his pack brought pain he was not expecting crashing down on him. He was probably overreacting because he'd been drinking. He didn't care.

They'd abandoned him. No one called, no one messaged him, he could be dead and no one would know. He reached for his phone to check his battery level, remembered he had left it at the house. He fumbled and came up with a handful of shells instead. They were awesome. The guy next to him seemed to think they were cool too. They talked about them, drank a bit more.

The guy leaned in, closed his eyes. Stiles was not ready for that. He clumsily ducked out of the way, stumbled as he scrambled to his feet.

"S-sorry, I gotta go," Stiles said. He sounded a little drunk. He stumbled again as he waved over his shoulder, called out more friendly goodbyes, offered thanks for the booze. The guy with the smile was watching him every time Stiles looked back over his shoulder until he was out of line of sight of the fireside party.

Stiles didn't fall too many times on his way back, maybe just five or six times. His hands were scraped from hitting small bits of driftwood, rocks, and cans that people hadn't thrown away like they were supposed to. His face felt hot, he thought he might've been a little more uncoordinated than normal. He took another dive into the sand, amended silently that maybe he was a lot more uncoordinated than normal.

Some of his precious shells fell out of his pockets. He gathered them up, put them back. He liked them, maybe he'd have a necklace or something made out of them. He kept one of the large ones out, rubbed it with this thumb as he walked.

He hiccupped, shook his head slightly. He looked down the beach to the west. He wasn't sure exactly where he was. He figured he'd just keep walking. Eventually he'd find his way back, either that or he'd pass out on the beach, those were minor details.

He walked, stumbled, fell a few more times, he got up every time, kept going. In the distance he saw two forms coming out of the darkness running towards him. The forms turned out to be an angry Jackson and a very angry Lydia shaped she-demon.

"Stilinski, where the hell have you been?" Jackson said. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his neck full of tension.

Stiles couldn't tell why he was so upset. The young werewolf reached out towards him. Stiles backed away from the touch. He didn't say anything, but he wasn't interested in Jackson pawing at him.

"We've been worried, everyone's looking for you." Lydia said. She walked forward, placed a hand on his arm, fingers curling lightly around him.

He laughed at the absurdity of it, laughed right in her face. He didn't care that she stiffened with anger. He pulled his arm out of her grasp, stepped back again.

"Whatever, I was busy, not like I'd just wait around until someone thought it was time for Stiles," he said. His voice betrayed how drunk he was. "Not like anyone cared what I was doing earlier."

"What?" Lydia watched him. He felt like she was judging him.

"Like you don't know? You know what? I used to love you, despite the fact that you never talked to me, that you treated me like I was invisible. I cared about you." Stiles took a shaky breath. Fury welled up in his chest.

Lydia opened her mouth, tried to say something but Sitles kept talking, didn't listen.

"I wanted to see you happy. Not because of your perfect hair or your perfect makeup. I didn't care about what clothes you wore or who your friends were. I liked you because you were amazing, in ways that other people had no idea about. Just me, and it never mattered." Anger and pain bubbled up from his heart, spilled out of his mouth.

Lydia recoiled as if Stiles had physically struck her. He didn't care, he should have but he didn't. At any other time, on any other day he'd be apologizing for being such a dick. Not today. He was tired, tired of being walked on by her and everyone else. The alcohol gave him the courage to say it.

"Don't try to act like you give a crap! I was always invisible to you. Not like anything has changed." Stiles closed his eyes, his chest felt a little hollow. He wasn't sure he was happy with what had come out of him.

Jackson growled softly, stepped between the two of them. He loomed up to his full height. It made Stiles laugh again, to see Jackson act like he was protecting her, acting like he cared.

"Calm down," Jackson said. It was a warning; Jackson was trying to sound like Derek, trying to glare like Derek. It was more Chihuahua bullshit. Scott had attacked Stiles, had wanted to kill him when he'd been driven mad by the wolf. Jackson's posturing and threats had no impact.

"Screw you, Jackson! You think that just because you drive an expensive car that you can just tell people what to do? That because you're popular and people like you that you can just do whatever you want?"

Jackson's lips compressed into a tight line, his fists clenched tighter. "You don't know me."

"Oh right, I forgot, you were adopted. That makes it okay for you to walk all over other people, to treat them like they aren't as good as you because it's hard to be so rich and so good looking."

Stiles snorted, Jackson had the perfect life. It wasn't enough that it was perfect, that he had everything, he wanted to make sure other people knew it. Stiles was sick of it. He wasn't afraid to tell Jackson how much of a dick he was.

Jackson blanched, his shoulders slumped. Stiles had hit a nerve. He wasn't done. A small part of him hated himself for what he knew he was going to say. He didn't care, he wanted everyone else to know how much he was hurting.

"Guess what? At least you have two parents who love you! They may not have given birth to you, but they made the choice to take you in, to love you, give you everything you want. Some of us don't even have two parents."

He glanced at Lydia. He saw the echo of his own pain, the divorce probably still fresh in her mind. Jackson needed to hear what he was going to say, not because it would make Stiles feel better, but because Jackson needed to know it, he needed them both to know it.

"I only have my dad. Not because my mom left to find something better, she's dead. So suck it up, both of you. Your lives are the lives that everyone else wants. Get over yourselves."

Stiles stormed past them, didn't look back. He didn't want to see if there were looks of pain on their faces. He didn't want to see the hurt he dished out. He ran, he ran and he stumbled. He didn't fall, he kept going.

Two more forms moved toward him from the distance. He knew what he was going to say as soon as he saw them. He wanted to get it off his chest before he got back to the house, before he got his phone, called a taxi to take him back to Beacon Hills and away from the horrible experience the trip had turned into. There was a small part of him that knew he was overreacting, that he was dealing with his pain the wrong way.

Scott and Allison rushed to meet him. Allison's face twisted with fear and concern. She looked at his bleeding hands. The pain was nothing. His heart was bleeding. It had been bleeding for a long time. No one noticed, that's not what anyone wanted to see from him. He was the comic relief in their little dramas, he didn't matter. Allison reached for his hand. His grip tightened on one of his shells hard enough that it cracked. Shards of it opened the cuts in his hand further.

"Don't _touch_ me!"

Scott's mouth fell open in shock. Allison backed away covering her mouth with her hands, frightened by the emotion in his voice. He didn't care. He didn't care about any of it anymore. He just needed to say what was on his mind.

He looked into Allison's eyes, he knew he would probably regret forever the things he was about to say, but if he didn't say them they were going kill him slowly. They would fester in the parts of his mind that he never spoke about, poisonous thoughts that ate away at the insides of his brain.

"You _stole_ him from me!"

She gasped, looked at Scott. He looked bewildered. Stiles kept talking, kept babbling out the pain that was tearing him apart, tears started to fill his eyes.

"He's supposed to be _my_ best friend! He's supposed to be there for me and he isn't. It's your fault!"

He wiped angrily at his face with his bloody fist. He wanted to blame the alcohol, even as he pressed on he wanted to make excuses for his behavior.

"I'm always there for you Scott, I'm a real best friend. When the werewolf thing happened to you, I tried to help you, even when you hurt me. When you kissed Lydia, when you thought everything was too hard, I was there."

Stiles's rage gave way to naked pain. His body shook. Tears started streaming down his face against his will. He hated it, hated that he was doing this. Hated that he'd let it build up in him.

"Where were you when I needed you? You were with her, or you were with Derek, or you were thinking about being with her. You never once asked me if I was ok, if I was worried that my father could be torn to shreds by Derek's uncle."

Stiles choked on his words, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. Scott's mouth was still open, but not saying anything, not trying to break in. Scott was letting him pour his heart out.

"You just didn't care enough about anything but your own life. I was there too! I was in danger. I tried to do everything I could to help and you just took me for granted. The worst part about that, the worst part, is that even though you tried to kill me, you were still the only friend I had and that was the best thing I had going for me. Pretty pathetic, no wonder no one takes me seriously."

Scott looked away from him, gazed down at the sand. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. Allison put her hand on Scott's shoulder; the simple act of kindness was too much for Stiles to witness.

He walked around them; his body trembled at the emotions ripping him apart. What he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself. The pain was all there was, soaked in alcohol and burning away all the rational parts of his brain. His body was covered in sand, he was bleeding, his face was a mess, and none of it mattered because he was just the sidekick. No one was there for him when he needed it. He was alone.

He made it up onto the porch, dropped the bloody shell back into his pocket before wiping his hands on his shirt. It stung, but it wasn't as bad as what was roiling around in his gut. He grasped the door handle. It slipped and wouldn't open, the brass was streaked red with his blood, wouldn't turn. He slammed his fist against the wall. He cried out all the fury and hurt he kept bottled inside so that no one could see how bad it was. It ripped its way out of his throat as he slammed his head against the door hoping it would make the pain stop. It didn't, the pain didn't stop. It coiled tighter around his heart.

He was about to slam his head against the door again when strong arms encircled him from behind, pulled him away from it. He thrashed and screamed. He was shaking trying to get free of the overwhelming strength that lifted him off his feet and held him in the air. He knew who it was.

"_You,_" he cried, he couldn't see Derek's face but he knew that's who had him. "This all started with you and your family!"

Derek didn't say anything, his grip just got tighter. Stiles's weak human strength couldn't break the overwhelming power that had him in its grasp, couldn't get away from the searing heat of the body that held him solidly against itself.

"I didn't have much, but I had one friend. You took him from me! _It's your fault_" Stiles knew that he wasn't making any sense, some part of him knew that Scott wasn't gone, that Scott had made him cereal exactly the way he wanted it to be made. He knew that Scott cared about him but it wasn't enough.

There was emptiness in Stiles, there had been for a long time. His friendship with Scott was the only thing that made it bearable. Scott didn't have that much time for him anymore. It was selfish, it was unfair, but Stiles couldn't help it. His father was always busy at work, Scott used to stay at his house all the time. They would play video games and eat pizza. They'd talk about everything. Now Stiles was a toy that Scott had outgrown. He wanted to be happy that his friend's life had gotten so much better, but at the moment it tore him apart that he'd been left behind.

He screamed, he cried, but Derek wouldn't let him go. It made him furious. The Alpha managed to open the door even with Stiles thrashing about. It made him feel impotent that Derek could just do whatever he wanted, that there was nothing Stiles could do because he was just a weak little human in a world of werewolves.

Derek held him tighter as he moved through the house. Stiles struggled harder, but it was still pointless. There was nothing he could do. Derek carried him up the stairs, threw him down onto the bed closest to the door.

Stiles whipped around ready to scream, to throw the lamp on the nightstand at Derek, to do anything to get the man to leave him alone. Before he could the werewolf's weight crashed into him. Derek pinned him to the bed, powerful arms trapped him, kept him from escaping. Stiles howled out his pain and his rage. He tried to twist out of Derek's grasp. The man didn't say anything, just held him down, solid warmth all around him.

Stiles hiccupped, choked on his own tears for a moment before coughing. Derek didn't let go. Stiles was exhausted, he was hurt. Derek just kept holding on to him keeping him still, like he was somehow trying to steady the raving mad mess of a person who used to be Stiles.

He didn't know when the moment happened, but at some point he wasn't pushing Derek away anymore. He was clutching him, crying into the man's shoulder. He poured out everything he'd held inside. He told Derek about his mother's death, how Scott didn't have time for him anymore. He told Derek how jealous he was of Jackson, how hurt he was that Lydia never acknowledged him. He babbled about how he felt betrayed and alone, weak and unimportant, how hurt he was that no one was there for him.

Derek didn't say anything; he just held Stiles down until he stopped shaking, held him, and warmed him. Stiles started to fall asleep slowly. He didn't let go of the solid weight on top of him, basked in the support it silently offered. He didn't know why, but it made everything seem a little bit better, a little less broken, and like he was a little less alone.


	9. Bedroom Warzone

Derek lifted his body off Stiles carefully, tried not to wake him. It'd taken a long time for Stiles to fall asleep. The outburst he'd gone through had been ugly and painful, but necessary. He needed the rest. Derek tilted his head to look at the wet mess Stiles had made of his shoulder. He didn't really care; Stiles had needed to let all that pain out.

He'd been surprised when Stiles finally opened up, he'd had no idea what the teenager had kept bottled inside. Derek knew what it felt like to be alone. He wondered how Stiles could go through each day with a smile on his face, laughing and joking about everything when he had such pain locked inside. Derek wasn't capable of doing something like that; he respected the kid's strength.

He wrinkled his nose at the coppery scent of blood in the air, it wasn't very pleasant, but it was something he was used to. There were other scents flooding the room, above them all was Stiles, that personal mixture of his body chemistry with his deodorant and soap. Just below that was Scott. He'd lingered in the hall all night, he still sat against the wall by their door. The young beta's heart beat anxiously.

Scott had followed at a discreet distance as Derek had carried a flailing Stiles up to their room. He'd only attempted to enter once, when Stiles stopped screaming, when he'd started crying in earnest. He'd poked his head just inside the door, met Derek's scowl with defiance.

Scott didn't seem to understand that he'd been intruding, seeing something that Stiles wouldn't want him to, something he wasn't ready to share with his friend. Scott had almost risked challenging him to get to Stiles's side.

Derek had stared into glowing amber eyes, met them with furious crimson. Concern had clouded Scott's judgment but hadn't pushed him into doing something he'd regret. Derek would have had difficultly restraining himself from breaking both of the beta's arms and throwing him off the terrace.

He closed his eyes at the memory. He wanted to protect Stiles, to take care of a vulnerable member of his pack, but being tempted to meet another pack member's concern with violence wasn't the right reaction. His mood swings were getting worse, the Alpha wolf seeped into every corner of his mind, picked at the edges of his control.

"Go to bed." Derek whispered the command knowing Scott would hear it.

"No." Scott's reply was quiet, but infuriatingly obstinate. "I want to make sure he's alright."

"You're the reason he's not alright. He needs time." It was harsh, but true. Stiles needed to face what happened on his own, needed to come to terms with what he'd done before he faced anyone else.

There was a soft rustle of clothes and light footsteps on the carpets as Scott retreated down the hallway, eventually Scott's scent faded too. Derek heard the others milling about downstairs, talking amongst themselves, worrying, thrown into a flurry of emotion as they asked Scott what happened, asked him if Stiles was alright.

Derek tuned them out, took another deep breath. He needed to do something about the blood scent in the air before it drove him into an instinctive frenzy. He was still adjusting to his new more potent urges. First he would need to bandage Stiles's hands so they wouldn't keep bleeding. It was possible the teen might wake up when he tried, but Derek was willing to bet that between the alcohol he'd smelled on Stiles's breath, and the emotional fatigue of his outburst, he wasn't likely to awaken any time soon.

He watched the boy sleep for a few minutes. His breathing was even, face slack. Stiles's heartbeat was steady. Derek went into the bathroom and pulled a first aid kit out from under the sink. He couldn't clean the wounds in Stiles's hands as stringently as he should, but he'd at least apply some antiseptic to the bandages before wrapping them. That would be enough to get him through the rest of the night.

After pausing a moment, he took a washcloth from the rack, glanced at the shower. He tried to ignore the overwhelming scent that lingered there. He shook his head, ran the washcloth through warm water; he'd need to get the sand off of the teen's hands at least. The scent of soap helped hide what still lingered in the shower.

Derek partially doubted Stiles would ever be completely free of sand; it looked like he'd burrowed his way back to the house. He cast a final glance in the direction of the shower, tried to breathe shallowly through his mouth until he made it back into the room carrying the first aid supplies and the damp wash cloth. The blood scent was suddenly comforting in comparison to the other smell, it didn't affect him on the same level, wasn't as confusing.

Quietly he padded back towards the bed Stiles was in, the teen hadn't moved. His breathing was deep and his scent was even, wasn't tinged with any lingering emotion. Derek kept breathing through his mouth, didn't want to get the blood scent into his nose. He leaned over and gently took Stiles's left arm in his hand, carefully watched for any reaction that would signal oncoming awareness. Stiles kept taking deep soft breaths. Gently, with great care, Derek cleaned the sand out of the cuts. They weren't that bad on the left one, the right though, that could be problematic, he hoped they were shallow as well.

After the sand had been cleared away he took his time in wrapping the teen's palm in crisp linen bandages with a generous portion of medication soaked into them. Occasionally Stiles's fingers would flex or twitch slightly. When they did Derek froze in place, waited for the pattern of rest to resume before continuing. Once the first hand was complete Derek laid it back down, watched Stiles's face for a minute. He looked peaceful.

Derek walked back to the bathroom. He paused outside the door, held his breath before entering. He rinsed the washcloth out as quickly and quietly as he could, made his way back into the bedroom. He'd be clinical, professional, and swift with the other hand. He intended to minimize the amount of time where he was in danger of waking Stiles up.

He didn't linger as he stroked the warm cloth against the normally infuriating teen's palm. He was careful when he applied the second set of bandages to the right hand. It was hurt worse, that's why he was gentler, not because he wasn't sure when he'd be so close without Stiles babbling away at him, diverting his attention and splitting his concentration like a sledge hammer coming down on an overly ripe watermelon.

Derek took the bloody sand covered washcloth back into the bathroom, endured the scents within and grabbed a new one. He dampened it with warm water before making his way back to the bed. With the new cloth he slowly cleaned the grime and streaked dirt from Stiles's face, wiped away the sand and the remnants of tears. As the Alpha, it was his duty to protect and care for his pack. He would do what was required of him.

His fingers didn't linger against the teenager's cheeks, didn't shake slightly when the eyelids they were so close to fluttered momentarily. Once Stiles's face was clean Derek returned to the bathroom, threw the second cloth into the sink without actually entering the room. He closed the door and leaned against it, nostrils flared. He covered his face with his arm, breathed in the scent of his own clothing to distract him.

Derek walked towards the empty bed. He was ready for sleep. He took a deep breath, frowned. The blood in the air wasn't gone. He'd forgotten the sheets and the clothes that Stiles wore. He grimaced at the thought of trying to undress the kid and get him out of the bed without waking him up. That seemed impossible. Worst case scenario Stiles would wake up and start talking. The thought stopped Derek from moving towards the bed Stiles was on.

It was silly; he scowled at the boy in the bed as though it were his fault. There was no way he could let a pack member sleep in a bed and clothes covered in blood. He was not afraid of Stiles waking up and chattering about god only knew what for god only knew how long.

Stiles didn't know it because he was asleep, but he had scored another point. The Alpha was indeed worried. Stiles vertigo inducing babbling: three, Derek's scowl powers: one.

Derek shook his head, took a calm breath. He slowly approached the sleeping form on the bed. He placed his hands gently on Stiles's body, tried to push him into rolling over onto his back. Stiles didn't budge at first, a hand feebly smacked at Derek's arms. The Alpha rolled his eyes. He gripped the flailing appendage, pinned it to the bed.

"G'way," Stiles mumbled. He curled his body around the hand Derek was using to hold his arm to the bed.

Stiles's skin was warm. Derek tried to pull free, gasped when Stiles's teeth closed over his wrist. He shook his hand. Stiles clung to him, bit harder. Derek growled. Stiles made noises like he was trying to rebuke Derek for touching him, but with his mouth around Derek's wrist there was no telling what the words were supposed to be.

Derek seized Stiles by the back of the neck, pried his arm free. Stiles kicked out one leg, almost caught Derek in the groin. Derek growled again, gripped Stiles's shirt, and yanked it off. Stiles flopped onto his back, scratched at his belly and let out a soft sigh. Derek looked at his wrist, felt like he should be able to see teeth marks.

He reached out, undid the button and ties on Stiles's cargo shorts. Stiles got his feet on Derek's thighs, pushed at him. Derek almost lost balance, barely caught himself from falling on Stiles's prone body. He stepped away from Stiles's legs, got a hold on his shorts and tried to yank them free.

"G'way... s'cold," Stiles said. He tried to curl in on himself.

Derek growled again. He figured it was just like taking off a bandage, better to just yank it off and deal with the pain. He tightened his grip on the shorts, pulled with enough force that Stiles slid across the sheets. The teenager kicked his feet, Derek caught one of them, managed to free it from the shorts. The other landed a grazing blow to his groin. He grunted at the impact, snarled at the ornery teenager. He took a few calming breaths, resisted the urge to pick Stiles up by the scruff of the neck and hurl him into the clean bed on the other side of the room.

The shorts finally came free; a shower of tiny shells fell from the pockets. Derek sighed, dropped the shorts to the floor. He was being punished. He wasn't sure what he'd done that was so bad, but it was clear that some higher power had it out for him. He hooked his hands underneath Stiles's arms, pulled him up.

"Yer a bully," Stiles mumbled. He latched his teeth onto Derek's shoulder, pushed feebly with his arms and legs.

Derek ignored the slight sting of Stiles's mouth. He walked quickly across the room, dropped Stiles to the other mattress. He leaned down, pulled the covers out from under Stiles's body, got a hand pushing against his face for his troubles. Fingernails scratched lightly at his cheek, a finger hooked into his mouth for a moment as the hand tried to push him away. He resisted the urge to bite the offending digit off. After getting the blankets free he dropped them over the teenager.

Stiles let out a satisfied sigh, turned over onto his stomach. By the time the arduous process of getting Stiles out of his blood, dirt, and tear stained clothes and into the other bed was complete, Derek thought he might have been more afraid of a sleeping Stiles than he was of his enraged uncle. He'd been thrown around a hospital by an angry Alpha werewolf, but no one had ever kicked him in the dick for trying to help them.

He didn't even know if Stiles had woken up during the ordeal or just instinctually defended himself. He'd clutched at his cloths and the covers he'd been on with more ferocity than the most territorial den mother used to protect her pups. How Stiles went from having a small secretive smile on his face, to a rabid enraged wolverine and back again was mysterious and terrifying. Stiles buried his face into the pillows Derek had used the night before, murmured contentedly into the soft material.

The Alpha walked back to the warzone that had been Stiles's bed. Clothes and blankets were strewn about, little seashells were scattered all over the carpet. Carefully Derek picked up each and every one of them and set them on the dresser Stiles had been using. That done he rolled up all of Stiles's discarded clothes from the last two days into the blankets that had been on the teenager's bed. He paused before heading out of the room, set the bundle down. He glanced over at Stiles in the other bed.

Derek leaned over and picked up the picture of Stiles's mother, grabbed a handful of the sea shells from the dresser and walked over to the nightstand by the bed Stiles occupied. He arranged the objects there, tilting the picture so that it appeared the woman was staring at the boy sleeping a few feet from her, the shells circling the base of the frame. He walked quietly back to the other bed, resisted the urge to look at the door to the bathroom again.

He picked up the bundle of sheets and clothes, walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him softly, stood on the other side to listen to the teenager's breathing. He didn't detect anything abnormal. He listened for sounds from the rest of the house, confirmed that the pack was all finally, and in some cases fitfully asleep. He walked down the stairs and began to sort out Stiles's clothes and blankets; he knew how hard it could be to get blood out of clothes if you let it soak in.


	10. You Shall Not Pass

Derek sat silently on the steps leading to the second floor. He flipped to the next page of the book resting on his knee. He was trying desperately to ignore the less than subtle planning going on in the living room. Scott's inside voice was would have been audible without supernatural hearing.

"I'm just saying, he can't take all of us at the same time," Scott said.

Scott's anger and concern were almost choking; the scent practically obliterated what everyone else was feeling. Derek closed his eyes, tried to think of all the ways he'd keep himself from hurting the beta too badly if he got close. Derek wasn't in the mood to be challenged.

"I think that he can. Unless you have a better idea than letting Derek beat us all until we roll over in submission, I think you should just sit down." Lydia stared Scott down, waited until the upset werewolf sat down on the couch next to Allison before going back to filing her nails.

Derek didn't smile, but he wanted to. Lydia was far more aware of the balance of power in the room than any of the others seemed to be. Scott's heart was in the right place, he just didn't know that it wasn't the right time.

"I could try to distract him, lead him away?" Jackson offered. The blonde nodded at Scott.

Derek admired that Jackson was willing to stand by a member of his pack. It wouldn't stop him from stomping the newest werewolf into the floor if he tried.

"I don't think that will work since I'm almost positive he can hear you guys." Allison said. She patted Scott's leg consolingly.

Derek sighed, turned to the next page of his book. Why couldn't the two girls have been the werewolves? His pack suffered from a distinct lack of brainpower, especially with Stiles down for the count, still resting upstairs. At least the plan that Stiles would have come up with would have made him laugh inside instead of roll his eyes.

"I just want to make sure that Stiles is okay," Scott said.

"I know you do, but maybe Derek is right and we just need to give him some space." Allison told Scott as she laid a restraining hand on his arm. Tension drained out of Scott's shoulders and neck, he slumped down further into the couch.

'_Good girl,'_ Derek thought. He didn't want to wash blood out of any more clothes, especially since he hadn't gotten any sleep. His patience was balanced on the edge of a knife. When Stiles was ready to face the pack again he would come down. He had a right to feel the way that he did, but knowing the teenager's sense of compassion, he would feel incredible remorse at the things that he had said, even if many of them had been accurate.

"Stiles's dad called me," Scott told the other teenagers, "he said he was worried because he called Stiles yesterday, but he didn't answer. I told him everything was fine, but at the time I was worried because we didn't know where he was."

"I'm sure Stiles will call his dad when he wakes up" Allison said, "for all we know Stiles is doing that right now."

Derek glanced at Scott as the beta shook his head.

"No, he woke up a little while ago, he hasn't called anyone. I'd have heard him talking. He just spent the last fifteen minutes-"

Scott cut off at Derek's warning growl. It was one thing to be aware of what his friend was doing; it was another thing for Scott to blab that Stiles had been crying again. That wouldn't help the situation at all.

Scott glared at him, but looked away after they locked eyes for a few moments. The young beta was a spirited guy, which was good sometimes. Other times it made Derek want to strangle him.

"Spent the last fifteen minutes doing what?" Lydia asked. She glanced at the hallway at the top of the stairs, twisted her fingers in her lap.

"Nothing," Jackson said before Scott could open his mouth.

Derek caught the newest beta's gaze and nodded. Jackson was picking the dynamics up a lot faster than Scott. Hell, Stiles, Lydia, and even Allison were picking up everything faster than Scott. Derek would never admit it to them, but sometimes he wished it had been Stiles that had gotten bitten by his uncle. It wasn't that Scott was bad at being a werewolf; it was that sometimes he didn't want to be a werewolf at all.

Derek turned to the next page of his book, but he couldn't focus. His brain was flooded with thoughts of the teenager who was fighting a battle against his own emotions upstairs. Stiles was strong. Derek was sure he would be fine, and stronger than ever having faced his feelings. He closed the book with more force than was strictly necessary. All the teenagers in the living room jumped at the sudden noise.

He felt like a hypocrite, commending Stiles for the strength to face what was inside him when Derek wasn't willing to do the same thing. There were times when he thought this new thing growing inside of him was going to get out of his control. Laura was the one who was meant to be the Alpha, not his uncle, not him. In a way he wondered if his struggle was similar to what bitten wolves had to go through. He knew they had to fight harder to learn things that came naturally to those who were born wolves.

Laura…

She'd been so strong. She kept them alive when everyone else in their family had been killed. He missed her, thinking about what had happened to her made him angry. Fury boiled up; he felt the burn under his skin. The Alpha form struggled to be allowed to vent its rage. The room reeked with the smell of fear. He glanced at the rest of the pack, eyes burning crimson orbs.

Lydia looked like she wanted to bolt, blood drained from her skin. Scott moved between Derek and Allison, crouched low to the ground. His eyes were alight with amber energy. Jackson twitched in place, dropped his face into his hands. His mouth fell open, his fangs extended. He shook his head as he struggled with the sudden flare of anger from Derek. Allison's eyes scanned the room for an escape route.

With years of practice at controlling his emotions Derek reeled in the beast, forced it back down into his chest. It was harder now, harder even than when he first had to learn to control himself, but he was the Alpha now. That meant that he had to be the Alpha, had to master it, had to use it to protect his new pack. He wouldn't let anything happen to them, would protect them, even if that meant he'd have to protect them from himself sometimes.

He closed his eyes, took a few more deep breaths. He cracked the book open again. It wasn't the same page he'd been looking at before. It didn't matter; it was just to distract him. Slowly the tension eased out of the room.

"I feel like an ass," Scott said.

"I never meant to take you away from him," Allison took Scott's hand, gently stroked her fingers over his knuckles. "I just, I was falling in love. I wasn't thinking about anything else."

Scott smiled at her; Derek hoped that Allison and Scott worked out with a far better ending than he and Kate had. He realized his mistake as soon as the thought crossed his mind. The Alpha Wolf was back, stalking the edges of his control, trying to hamstring it, bring it down. The wolf wanted out. It wanted him to give in. He ground his teeth, focused on the pack's conversation.

"I never really knew how he felt until Prom," Lydia confided to the others, "I mean I just always thought he was a little weird. I didn't mean to hurt him, not as badly as I have. He's probably the kindest guy I've ever gone on a date with."

Jackson bowed his head, but didn't say anything at first. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, stared out the glass doors that led to the beach. "It's not like I want to be a dick," Jackson said to himself more than anyone else, "it's just… I'm supposed to be this person, this specific person who acts a specific way. I've got to do better than everyone else because that's what people expect from me." The young werewolf took a shaky breath, "I guess I just… I just don't always see who I'm stepping on to get to the finish line first."

Derek watched Lydia's reaction more than he watched Jackson's admission. She was guiltier than almost anyone of pushing Jackson to be like that. She had her own reasons. Derek didn't know what they were, but both of them had been changed by their exposure to Scott and Stiles, each in their own way.

Lydia's emotional transformation had been more complete than the physical one that Jackson struggled with. She had been shown true compassion and unconditional caring from Stiles, she had almost died. Those things changed a person. She was struggling; he could see it in her eyes. He thought they all could.

"I should have done more though," Scott insisted, "I'm going to do more."

Derek hoped he held to that, it would do Scott some good to take better stock of the good things in his life besides Allison. One person couldn't be another person's whole world, no matter how strong Allison was. She'd crack under that pressure, anyone would.

The Alpha heard Stiles start to move in the room upstairs. He knew that if Stiles was confronted by all of them at the same time he may panic and bolt. Scott and Jackson froze as well when they heard the noise; the two females quickly picked up on the sudden tension.

"This is what all of you are going to do…" Derek said. This time, more than any other time in the past he meant it, and the unblinking gazes of the four teenagers locked on his told him that they understood that this was not something to challenge him on.

The Alpha was the Alpha because he or she made the plans that would benefit the pack, because the pack was more important than the individual. The Alpha helped keep everyone aligned toward one goal, on one course of action. He laid out their course of action, and for once, the teenagers seemed to be listening to him.


	11. We'll Make a Fort

Allison hopped gracefully down from the rock she was perched on when she saw Stiles coming down the ramp from the back of the house. He was dragging his feet, had his hands behind his back. She smiled, squinted her eyes trying to figure out what he was holding as he joined her by the garden.

He didn't look like he was doing very well. Allison wished she could make it better. "Hey there," she said softly, "How do you feel this morning?"

"Sorta, dumb I guess," his voice was soft, missing some of the energy she normally associated with it. "Sorry I was such an A-hole last night. I brought a peace offering."

She squealed with delight as he brought his bandaged hands out from behind his back. They were clutching with some difficulty a small container of ruby red strawberries. Seeing them made her mouth water. She loved strawberries.

"They're-"

"Your favorite," Stiles finished for her, "Scott told me, in a total gentleman not T-M-I kind of way I mean."

She reached out and plucked one from the container he fumbled open, twisted in place back a little bit. She smiled at him, popped it into her mouth. He grinned. For the first time in the past two days she saw his face brighten up with that inner light, that self sustaining optimism that burned incandescent in him. She wanted to see him happy like that more often.

"How did you know I was out here?" she asked. She winced as soon as she said it. She'd been going for subtle. The cat was out of the bag.

"I think it was the way you casually kept walking by whatever window you saw me through and then looking up into the sky when I looked back." A dopey smile accentuated his features. He rubbed a bandaged hand through his hair.

Busted, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, put one hand behind her back and plucked another strawberry out. She offered it to him with a wink. She watched gleefully as he licked his lips nervously, cleared his throat then opened his mouth. She fed him the strawberry then licked the juice from her fingers before brushing her hair away from her face.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you for a second, if that's alright," her voice was hesitant and soft, very girly sounding in her own ears. "If not… I totally understand."

He swept one of his arms in front of him, made an awkward little flourishing bow only slightly spoiled by the fact he almost lost the container of strawberries. He was practically the human incarnation of adorable. She thought that he slyly used it to his advantage.

"At your service of course," Stiles said, a small self deprecating smile played across his expressive mouth.

She wondered if everyone noticed his mouth. If he knew how it drew people's attention when he flicked his tongue over his soft pink lips. She bet he did. It made her smile. He may try to act like he was blissfully unaware of other people around him and how they reacted to him, but she knew better. She had countless stories that Scott had told her when they spent time together.

He probably just didn't know what they really thought. He spent so much time giving off the appearance of being happy; no one could see how lonely he really was. It broke her heart a little.

"Oh Stiles," she said. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him in close. He stumbled slightly at the sudden impact, but managed not to drop his precious peace offering. "No one could ever take him away from you."

Allison's heart twisted a little when she heard the hitch in his breath. He went rigid in her arms. She squeezed him tighter, ran one hand up the back of his head, stroked his hair. He was still tense, like he wanted to pull away.

"He talks about you all the time, more than you realize I bet. He tells me stories of the mischief you get him into and out of, about the times you've drank and talked about girls or school. He never told you because he was distracted at the time, but he was so proud when you made first line too. You didn't even need to get wolf slobber on you to do it."

His torso heaved a little bit. She felt him let out a small chuckle into her hair. He sniffled a bit and the arm that wasn't clutching strawberries wrapped around her. She smiled, he hugged her back. It was a start.

"Thanks," he mumbled against her shoulder.

She turned her head against his neck, tightened her arms around his body. "You and his mom, you're all he has, you're his family, his brother. He couldn't stop loving you any more than he could stop breathing," she whispered to him.

He mumbled something else against her shoulder, but she didn't know what it was. His torso trembled against her. She rubbed his hair and held him tight. He was trying to be all tough and manly. Boys were silly.

"I'm getting fonder of you every day too you know," she told him. "We're going to be friends. You and I will build forts in the forest and we won't let the werewolves in because it will be our 'No Wolves Allowed Club House'. We'll get Lydia to decorate it, okay?"

"Okay," he sniffled. "But I'm not bringing my comic books, because girls aren't allowed to touch them."

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. He really was the most adorable boy. She pulled away from him, rubbed her thumb over his cheek to wipe away the small tears that slipped out. He smiled shyly, looked away. He pulled out another strawberry and offered it to her. She took it, winked at him.

It didn't make everything better, they weren't suddenly going to be best friends, but she was trying. She wanted him to feel more included, wanted to see him smile more. Stiles was at his best when he was laughing and joking with the people he loved. She wanted to be one of those people one day. She didn't really understand all the details about how she fit into Scott's pack, her pack, but she knew that taking care of someone who was hurting was something she'd want to do regardless. She'd figure it out eventually, they all would, together.


	12. Hug it Out

Jackson was practicing with his lacrosse stick when he saw Stiles coming down the beach. The newest werewolf was focused; sweat ran down his shirtless body as he made shot after shot at a can he'd wedged between two rocks.

It wasn't the most practical goal, but it served its purpose. He'd set up a short distance from the house, easily visible if anyone walked out the back. More importantly the metallic clang the can made when the ball hit it carried a good distance down the beach in both directions.

Derek really was clever; he'd arranged them like some sort of human scavenger hunt. One would lead to the next until Stiles arrived at his ultimate destination. Jackson was supposed to keep it from Stiles, to make it seem like it was just coincidence, but the guy was smart. He doubted Derek would be able to fool him for long.

There was a part of Jackson that was still angry about what had passed between him and the weird kid. It was true they weren't exactly friendly, but he had been making an effort. He thought that the guy saw that. Stiles didn't really know anything about Jackson, but Jackson didn't know anything about him either. It wasn't like he'd given Stiles a chance to get to know him. Jackson didn't give many people chances to get to know him.

He wanted to make things right though, it was important to him. Not just because Stiles was right and he'd been a dick, but because it was for the good of the pack. He hated the idea that this new thing he'd found, the place where he finally belonged had a festering wound in it.

He hadn't known it was there, maybe none of them had. That wasn't an excuse though, he needed to be in better sync with everyone else, needed to learn how they thought and how they felt. He needed to do it right, he needed to be better.

When they had it right something like what happened with Stiles would never happen again. Jackson wanted that desperately, never wanted to be where Stiles was, breaking apart because people didn't see him. That was his life before he became a part of the pack, living with that fear that he wasn't good enough, he couldn't go back to that, he wouldn't.

Stiles hovered about nearby, whistling to himself and occasionally clapping his hands together while looking everywhere but at Jackson. Jackson shook his head, reached down to pick up the other stick.

"Hey Stilinski," Jackson called out. He tossed the stick to Stiles, "Let's work on passing okay?"

"Sure…"

Stiles caught the stick awkwardly, a look of pain flashed across his face. Jackson noticed the bandages. Crap, there went the whole premise of everything he had planned. Stiles was a decent enough player, not really a true first line material kind of guy, but he wasn't terrible. The bandages though would throw off anyone's game.

"Sorry" Jackson mumbled.

He wanted to walk over and pat Stiles on the back. He could smell Allison's perfume on him along with a hint of some sort of fruit. He wasn't that good with the scent thing yet, but he knew that it was important that they touched each other, that all the members of the pack did it.

Stiles smelled faintly of Derek and even more lightly of Scott. He'd probably always have a hint of Scott about him. The guys had been together long enough over the years that they sort of existed in each others' skin. That's how Jackson thought of it anyway. He looked out towards the ocean. He missed Danny, wanted him to be a part of all of this. Jackson could barely smell Danny on himself anymore.

"It's cool," Stiles said. He looked as awkward as Jackson felt.

Jackson sniffed at the air as subtly as he could. He tried to discern what Sitles was feeling. There was a small scent of dried blood in the air. He couldn't get anything else, wasn't able to use the sense on the level he wanted to. He tried to listen for Stiles heartbeat the way Derek tried to teach him, but he was even worse at that. He was still too focused on using sight as his primary sense.

"You're better than Scott," Stiles told him.

"What?" Jackson shifted his weight, leaned on his lacrosse stick.

"At being a werewolf, Scott's terrible at it I think. You've got this… focus about you that he lacks."

Stiles's eyes were looking at him steadily. Jackson shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. Stiles saw too much. He was just a human, but he was more perceptive than Jackson was with a battery of supernatural senses at his disposal.

"I guess," Jackson said noncommittally.

He wanted to touch the guy, not in a creepy way. It was just that his scent wasn't on Stiles at all, like Jackson and Stiles weren't part of the same pack. Since everyone loved Stiles and everyone thought Jackson was a dick that made him feel like he was on the outside looking in, but every time he did Stiles wigged out.

Stiles looked at him with those brown eyes that saw everything. Jackson shifted uncomfortably under that gaze. It assessed him, searching for a hint of something. Jackson didn't know what the guy was looking for.

"Scott didn't want it. That's why it's different. You wanted it, you wanted to be something more, have something special, something that set you apart so everyone would notice you."

"Maybe…" Jackson responded. Stiles was too close to the truth of it.

"I know because I almost wanted that too. Peter, Derek's uncle, he offered it to me. He wanted to bite me, thought that I'd make a better werewolf than Scott."

"Kittens make better werewolves than Scott" Jackson said. He hoped he wasn't going too far with the joke. He was surprised that Stiles had shared with him something so private. Bantering was the only response he could think of, he wasn't really good at opening up.

Stiles laughed, it was the most natural sounding thing in the world. It was something that Jackson really envied about him. He could laugh so easily, so readily. He didn't care what anyone else thought of it. He was who he was without regret or shame, he was Stiles.

"That's probably true, both kittens and plastic plants are leagues ahead of him. He's never going to be a big time superhero at the rate he's going." Stiles winked at him.

Jackson chuckled a little bit, but he felt awkward. He didn't laugh in front of other people very often, not unless he was laughing at them. They made eye contact, stared at each other for awhile, tried to figure each other out. Jackson was surprised when Stiles moved forward, put his hand on Jackson's bicep. He squeezed a little bit like he was seeing how big the muscle was.

"What are you doing out here without a shirt on?" Stiles asked him, "I thought I told you that you were too pretty to be alone."

Jackson blinked at him. Stiles let go of his bicep, landed the most awkward looking playful punch on Jackson's other arm. Stiles was doing it, putting his scent on him. He didn't seem to know if he was doing it right, but he was trying. He wasn't afraid to give it a shot, even if maybe he didn't know what he was doing.

Jackson admired that about him too. He'd just take risks and dive into something, even something that made him uncomfortable if it would help out someone else. Jackson tried to never take risks, tried to only do the things he was great at, that way he wasn't in danger of failing. He couldn't let anyone see him fail.

Stiles didn't back away, but he looked uncomfortable, like he didn't know what he should do next. Jackson smiled and pushed him lightly. Stiles pushed him back. It was perfect.

"You better get healed up, Stilinski. McCall and I have our work cut out for us if we're going to make you a first class lacrosse player," Jackson said.

Stiles grinned back. Jackson stretched out an arm experimentally, wanted to pull Stiles in for a sideways guy hug. Stiles didn't move away from him the way he normally did. Jackson smiled at him and the beginnings of the new bond they were awkwardly forging together. He was looking forward to having another friend. Stiles reminded him a lot of Danny. Neither of them was afraid to be who they were. Jackson wanted to be like that one day, didn't want to hide behind so much bullshit.

"Okay, enough bromance." Stiles stepped away from Jackson, but he had a smile on his face.

Jackson had a smile on his face too.


	13. On the Brink

Derek stretched out in the sun; it was getting close to the middle of the day. His skin was slick with a light sheen of sweat, the huge towel between him and the sand was warm against his stomach. He rolled over onto his back adjusting his black swim trunks slightly as they twisted around his hips. He took a deep breath of the ocean air, smiled to himself. Stiles was getting close, traces of Allison and Jackson layered lightly with his scent. Hopefully that meant his plan was working.

Something dark growled low in his gut, a hungry memory of other scents tied to the teenager. He choked it down, forced it back and kept his eyes closed, not wanting the temporary surge of animalistic power to be betrayed by his eyes if Stiles was close enough to see. He gritted his teeth against it; he was the master of his own mind and heart. He was the one in control. Subverted momentarily the power settled in the recesses of his soul, it would be back, he knew that it would, but for now he was still in control.

Things had been different since they arrived on the beach. Not a lot of time had passed, but it was easy to learn things about people when you couldn't get away from them. He'd assumed that his time with Stiles was going to be infuriating. They didn't get along, they hated each other, and yet Derek was starting to see echoes of himself in the teenager. Being alone, being on the outside of everyone else around you, it wasn't easy.

Stiles wasn't really alone, he had more than he gave himself credit for, but he'd lost a lot, dealt with it admirably considering what he had to work with. The humor, the sarcasm, it was just as much of a mask as the anger Derek shrouded himself with.

"Sit," Derek said without opening his eyes, "If you want, there's an extra towel rolled up in my bag."

"Thanks," Stiles's scent was a think cloud of nervousness. It bordered on fear.

The Alpha felt the subtle currents of air around his body as Stiles rummaged through the backpack and came up with the towel, felt grains of sand against him as Stiles displaced them while spreading it out next to Derek's. He took a deep breath through his mouth, it wouldn't mute the scents entirely, but for now it was better than provoking another altercation with the beast. He didn't want to frighten Stiles away.

"You wearing sun block?" Derek already knew that he wasn't. He'd have been able to smell the chemicals saturating his skin. Stiles had enough problems without adding sunburn on top of it. He felt the need to take care of the scatterbrained kid, especially after Stiles had helped him deal with the nightmares.

"Of course" Stiles lied; it never failed to amuse Derek. Part of him wondered if Stiles did it on purpose. Trying to figure the kid out was like running in circles, it could be fun, but it made you dizzy and got you nowhere.

He sat up, opened his eyes, and glanced over at Stiles. The teenager was carefully studying his flip-flops, picked at the edges of his orange swim trunks. His hands had new bandages on them; it had probably been hard to apply them without any help.

"I have some if you want," Derek told him.

"Can't put it on, I'm all Edward Bandagehands," Stiles mumbled under his breath. He waved his wrapped up hands, fingers spread out in front of Derek's face making a feeble scissoring motion. "You'd have to put it on for me…"

"Is that what you want?" Derek asked.

"I don't want to be a lobster." Stiles looked away from Derek as he spoke; nervousness skyrocketed, the scent cloying to his skin. "If you wouldn't mind that… uh… that would be great."

Derek didn't want to think about what was going to happen if he lost control, but he wanted to take care of Stiles, to give him what he wanted. He pulled the lotion out of his bag and turned to look at the teenager. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be reacting the way he had been. Derek had decided long ago that he was going to live his life in a specific way, understood what he would and wouldn't have. This trip was turning everything upside down. He should have waited until he'd mastered the Alpha Wolf.

"Take your shirt off" he said much more calmly than he felt.

"Oh… yeah, that would make sense." Stiles struggled slightly to accomplish it, whether because of his bandages or something else Derek couldn't tell.

Breathing through his mouth he could practically taste an emotion that was just shy of fear, he imagined it was a type of anticipation, like being paralyzed at the brink just before anticipation became too painful to bear. He wanted more of it, was hungry for it. He shook his head to clear the thought away, but it clung to the forefront of his mind, blurred his vision like spiraling cracks on glass.

"Lay down," Derek said, voice coming out stronger, more commanding than he'd meant it to. Stiles obeyed, but put one arm over his face as he went down onto his back, to hide his face from Derek or the sun. It didn't matter which one. "Roll over."

Stiles's body shivered slightly when Derek said it, stirred something primal inside the werewolf. Stiles did as he was told, stretched out on his belly, his face buried in his arms. The teenager's pale body was trembling slightly, like a leaf brushed by wind about to take flight. Derek swallowed down an emotion he wasn't ready to admit to himself was real, a desire he couldn't give voice to and poured some of the lotion on his hands.

Gentle yet firm, he started with Stiles's legs. Lotion warmed by his own body heat spread from his hands over Stiles. He massaged the muscles as he went, first the right leg and then the left. He took his time with it, savored the warm flesh under his fingers, kneaded the muscles and tried to ignore the soft sounds of pleasure that Stiles made.

Once the lower body had been taken care of, Derek knew that he needed to move up to the torso. He spread more of the lotion over his hands, moved to kneel over the prone form in front of him. His groin was just a fraction of an inch away from Stiles's hips. The wolf rose up hungrier than it had ever been, howled out in his soul. He felt like that emotion, that want and that need he wouldn't express to himself had him by the throat. Stiles had triggered something in him, Derek wasn't sure if it had been the night the boy had comforted him, didn't know if it was the night he repaid the favor. It didn't matter, it was in motion and he didn't know how to stop it.

"A-are you ok?" Stiles asked. His voice was muffled into the crease of his elbow where his head was resting. Nervousness again, that fine anticipation. Derek couldn't help himself. He took a deep breath of it, let it settle in his lungs. It spread through the rest of his body, a slight tingle dancing along his nerves.

Derek couldn't speak; fingers that had almost become claws touched the small of the teenager's back with feather light caresses, danced over the skin momentarily before gripping in earnest. Stiles's hips quivered slightly, almost on the verge of grinding into the sand beneath them. Stiles let out a small groan. Derek felt fire in his brain, his tongue lolled out, he panted for a second against the oncoming onslaught of the beast inside him.

_**MORE!**_

It wasn't so much a command from the beast inside of him as it was a need. It wanted more, wanted to get its claws and teeth into the body underneath him. Derek trembled under the weight of it, felt Stiles shake under his hands, then push back into them. Derek shook his head, closed his eyes. He brushed his fingers along Stiles's sides. The boy shivered under his touch, another gasping breath torn out of his lungs as the lotion spread over his skin.

Derek leaned further over Stiles, nothing but his hands were touching the younger man. He shook with the effort needed to keep it that way. He trailed his hands up over Stiles's shoulder blades. He pressed down on them, kneaded the tension away. Stiles whimpered under his hands, twisted away and pushed back in turns.

"Derek," Stiles whispered, "Your hands feel really good."

Stiles's voice whipped against his self control, flayed it open, left it raw and weak. Derek leaned down further, his teeth centimeters away from the back of the teenager's neck. His hands continued their path along Stiles's arms, twisting around his biceps. Derek opened his mouth, bared his teeth. His breath hot and wet against the skin that was so close …

_**NOW!**_

Derek's mind sank under the power. The Alpha Wolf rose up stronger than it had ever been. It wanted to taste, wanted to feel. He almost crumbled under the force of it, until a high-pitched electronic beep crashed against his enhanced hearing like an explosion. It was a notification from a cell phone. It snapped him free from the need, freed him from the shackles that had imprisoned his higher thought processes.

Derek blinked, stunned for a second. Stiles shifted underneath him.

"Derek?"

The Alpha rolled sideways so that he was no longer hovering over Stiles, made sure that no part of his body collided with the teenager as he did so. He grabbed his phone, silently thanked the sender of the message. He sniffed the air, confirmed his suspicion. The sender had seen him, seen what he was about to do.

"I've got to go; you should head back to the house." Derek didn't wait to hear a response.


	14. Do the Math

Lydia nearly dropped her phone as she rushed in through the back door. Whatever the plan had started off as, what was about to happen on the beach had not been a part of it. She was less than twenty yards from them when she saw what was going on. She'd given up on waiting for Derek. She hadn't agreed to the plan, to help orchestrate it, just to have Derek go off script, especially so close to the closing act.

Stiles was supposed to have a short conversation with Derek before the Alpha led him to where she was waiting so that she could take Stiles to lunch. If holding him down on the ground and looking like he was about to get a mouthful of Stiles's spinal cord had been in the game plan, she would have vetoed it immediately, glowing red eyes or no glowing red eyes.

She was a flurry of designer clothes as she made last minute calculations. If she factored in the amount of time that Stiles would spend staring after Derek confused as hell, along with the distance back to the house, and Stiles general inability to stay in one place for very long, she imagined she had less than five minutes to come up with a new strategy. She unlocked the screen to her phone and glanced at her text messaging list. The last one she'd sent said, '_Don't eat him!'_

Thank god she had quick fingers. She had approximately three minutes left if she was anywhere near as good as she thought she was. Her fingers with their impeccably manicured nails flew across the digital keyboard of her phone sending a mass text to all the members of the pack save Derek and Stiles.

_'Derek messed up, the game is changing, skip part a, I'll update in two hours, steer clear of big bad wolf if you see him.'_

She hit send, had just enough time to drop her phone into her purse, retrieve her compact from the emergency makeup compartment in the side, and arrange herself on the couch as if she had not just been running. Five minutes had passed, the new act was about to begin. A sixth minute passed. She tapped her foot impatiently. Another minute went by.

She cautiously looked towards the back door. An eighth minute ticked by. She sighed. In the ninth minute she realized she'd forgotten to consider that Stiles had a not mild case of unpredictability. She was just about to stand when she heard the back door open. She improvised by executing a lazy stretch instead, acted as though she was just getting up from a cat nap.

Stiles entered the living room, looked at her with his big brown eyes. He looked like he was out of breath, his face was flushed red. He was moving a bit more awkwardly than he normally did. That was fairly impressive considering he already moved like a drunken duck most of the time.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He shifted nervously. He looked guilty of something. He always looked guilty of something but this time it looked like he was ashamed of what he was guilty of. She wondered what it was that he was hiding.

"Hey," he said. He was blushing. He shifted nervously under her calculating gaze.

It hit her; she replayed the scene in her mind. At first she'd thought Derek was pinning Stiles to the ground having been forced into a rage by any number of ridiculously infuriating things he could have said. What if that's not what was happening when she saw them. What if Stiles had needed the extra minutes to calm down from an entirely different set of circumstances?

Tricky, this was about to get very tricky. This was going to change everything if it hadn't already. As it turned out, tricky games were her favorite. She'd already formulated a new strategy in the moments that Stiles stared at her as though he realized she had caught him with his hand in a cookie jar. She was ready to act. She would just play dumb, playing dumb was her specialty.

"So," she began. "Considering how rude you were to me last night, I think that it's only fair that you come shopping with me."

He blinked at her, mouth hanging open in a sort of dull bovine expression.

"Uhm-"

"Excellent, no need to change, what you're wearing is fine," she continued as if he hadn't rudely tried to interrupt her with some incredibly meaningless detail. She dropped the compact back into her purse, pulled out her phone as she headed for the door. "I'd tell you to wear more sensible shoes, but we both know that would be waste of my breath now don't we?"

Her fingers flew across her phone again, sending a message to Allison. 'Find somewhere we can all go dancing tonight, don't question it. I've got a new plan. I'll update you as soon as I can.'

Stiles made a strangled sort of clicking noise in his throat that Lydia assumed meant he understood and that he was sorry. He was following her despite what may have actually been some sort of sub-verbal protest. That was good enough. She put an extra sway in her step. She doubted it would have any effect considering his current interests, but she had to stay in character.

They exited the front of the house. She reminded him to lock the door as she walked down the porch. She was sure he would have forgotten to. She had no desire to be robbed while vacationing. She wouldn't have enough time to replace the wardrobe she'd need for the next few days, especially now that she had a whole new project to work on.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"There is a delightful row of shops just a few blocks from here," she said. It would be impolite of her just to ignore him. He seemed to be slightly on edge. Whether that was from Derek's disastrous attempt at whatever it was he had attempted or because he was nervous and feeling overwhelming shame for having yelled at her the previous night she didn't know.

After a short walk they arrived at the quaint little shopping district that catered to the tourists in the area. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. She glanced quickly at the signs for the different shops and boutiques, estimated how much time she would need to spend in each to find everything she needed. She eyed a sidewalk artist painting people's portraits with interest.

"So," Stiles began, "I wanted to say-"

"Shhhh," Lydia whispered. She put a finger to her luscious red lips. "This is the most critical moment."

He blinked at her, shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. It was distracting, but not as much as his voice would have been had she tried to continue with her process while he chatted at her. Having completed her calculations she turned, stared him directly in the eyes. He stumbled back a step, winced at the clicking of her heels on the sidewalk.

"Here's the truth, try not to interrupt me, can you do that?"

"Well-"

"No of course not," she stepped forward and placed one hand over his mouth while the other gripped him by the back of the head. It was the only way this was going to happen the way she needed it to. "If you interrupt me, you will see a fury so vast and consuming that you will wish that Derek was playing with your entrails after having disemboweled you, is that clear?"

He nodded, beautiful brown eyes very wide.

"You're incredible, in a thousand little ways that you could never see yourself, because you're too busy worrying about what everyone else is doing." Lydia relaxed the hold she had on him, but didn't let him go. "You're a doormat. You let people walk over you and you hug their feet and clean their shoes as they do it. To people like me, that's like blood in the water. It's not your fault that you are a baby seal in an ocean full of hungry sharks."

He made a little strangled noise in his throat. She tightened her grip on him again. She wasn't finished.

"You did something no one else has ever done. You made me care about something other than myself." It hurt her to admit it, but it was true. "The night I spent with you at Prom was amazing, if I hadn't been so stupid, if I had known then what I know now, I'd have stayed with you. Not because I almost died, but because you're one of the good ones. You're one of the genuinely good people in the world who care about everyone else instead of themselves. It's selfless, it's beautiful, and it's utterly moronic. Blink once if you are still with me, blink twice if you aren't."

He blinked once. She smiled, but didn't let him go.

"Excellent. So, with that in mind, there is something I want to explain to you. I was the trial run, what you felt for me, how you dealt with it, the way you coped in the face of me being a raving bitch was just the warm up."

Stiles's eyes got wide again. He tried to shake his head to deny what she was saying, but she knew it was an act.

"What you are feeling now, what I saw down there on that beach, I think that's what you really want. I'm going to help you get it, and the first thing I'm going to do, is help you not look like a color blind hobo dressed you. Blink once if you are still with me."

He paused for a moment, almost as though he thought she was going to give him another option. Eventually he blinked once.

"Wonderful, now, let's put you in some adult clothes, they're my treat."

She stared at him coolly when he opened his mouth as though he was going to protest. Slowly, over the course of a few moments he closed it again. Clearly he'd come to the realization that no matter what he said she wouldn't believe it, and she would get her way.

"Good boy," Lydia said. She let him go. "Let's go."


	15. All Zombies Must Die

Scott paced restlessly; he wished Lydia had been clearer about what was going on. Suddenly everything was different? Was Stiles ok? He growled low in his chest, if somebody had messed this up and Stiles was hurt more, if he was gone again, Scott didn't know what he would do.

He looked at his phone; the display told him that Lydia should be wandering by with Stiles in tow within the next few minutes. He did the little calming breathing exercises that Derek taught him. They didn't work; Derek was such an ass sometimes, he needed to learn how to teach better. Scott looked at his text messages again, reread the same message he had been reading over and over.

'Derek messed up, the game is changing, skip part a, I'll update in two hours, steer clear of big bad wolf if you see him.'

Scott didn't even remember what 'part a' was supposed to be, but seriously, what the hell had Derek done? Scott was ready to punch his face in. He wasn't afraid when he had to kick the Alpha who was on fire when it went after Allison, so he certainly wasn't afraid to kick Derek if he had hurt Stiles. He noticed his reflection in the window of the shop he was standing in front of. His eyes were pulsing amber, traces of dark anger evident, his canines were starting to elongate.

Happy place, happy place, he had to get to his happy place. He thought about the first night he had spent with Allison in the beach house. Anger drained out of him slowly and he started to drift…

"Dude, you have your Allison face on, what are you doing standing in the middle of the sidewalk?"

The words pulled Scott back into reality. He shook his head and glanced around. Stiles and Lydia were standing a few feet from him; oddly Lydia was taking shopping bags out of Stiles's hands. He looked up into the sky to make sure frogs weren't about to rain down.

"Well, I'm leaving," Lydia said, brief and authoritative.

Scott hated brief and authoritative, it made him think of Derek and wanting to curb stomp him.

"But—" Stiles started to say more, but Lydia was already walking away without looking back.

"What a bitch," Scott said, he hated that she was so short with Stiles. She didn't know what she was missing; she needed to open her damn eyes.

"It's cool," Stiles said.

Scott studied his friend for a second; normally he would have expected more from him than that. He reached out a hand, stopped it in mid air. Now probably wasn't the best time.

"Wanna get some pizza?" Scott asked. Stiles loved pizza.

"Yeah I guess."

Scott noticed, Stiles's eyes wander to the large brown paper bag he was holding with the top rolled down a bit. Normally Stiles would have been begging him, pushing him, and doing everything he could to convince Scott to tell him what was in it. Instead he just made a little huffy sound and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You go swimming today?" Scott asked.

"What?" Stiles shifted in place, looked down at the sidewalk.

"You're wearing swim trunks."

"No… I was just…" Stiles waved his arms in the air, like he wasn't sure what he was trying to say with his gestures.

A strong scent of something Scott couldn't identify hit him in the face, made him consciously examine the other smells. There was Allison, he loved that smell, even coming off of Stiles, Jackson, Lydia, Stiles's regular smell, sun block, and… and an overwhelming amount of Derek?

What the hell? If Lydia had just been with Stiles, and Derek hadn't been in over two hours, how did his stink linger all over his best friend? He narrowed his eyes, tried not to get mad. He tried really hard.

"What the hell?" Scott asked. He clenched the fist he wasn't holding the bag with.

"What the what?" Stiles asked back. His eyes got really wide. He looked away, started to whistle.

"Why do you smell like you spent the afternoon wrestling with Derek?" It didn't make any sense. Derek and Stiles hated each other. Was it because they were sharing the same room?

"I-uh-well…" Stiles shifted in place, "how about that pizza?"

Scott stared at Stiles, tried to mentally force him to tell the truth. Stiles glanced back at him impassively. Damn that was annoying! Stiles always managed to get Scott to confess what he was thinking. He wasn't so good at getting Stiles to open up the same way.

Scott pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where Stiles and Lydia came from. They walked in silence. Stiles occasionally looked at the bag in Scott's hands. Scott wanted him to ask, but he didn't. Stiles seemed determined to not participate.

"There's an arcade down here, it's got a lot of zombie shooters." Scott grinned as Stiles perked up a little. Stiles's second favorite thing after pizza was zombie shooter games.

"House of a Billion Ravenous Corpses?" Stiles asked.

"No." Scott shook his head. He tried not to smile.

Stiles started dragging his flip flops on the sidewalk. He let out a soft wistful sigh.

"House of a Billion Ravenous Corpses Two," Scott said. He couldn't help but grin.

Stiles looked like it was Christmas morning. He perked up, started walking with a purpose. That was a great start! Scott picked up his pace. This was going to be great. Just like old times. It didn't take them very long to get to the arcade.

They ordered a huge pizza with a mixture of toppings that made the clerk think they were screwing with him. They tried to out eat each other and Stiles won, just like always. Even with a werewolf metabolism Scott couldn't put food away like Stiles could. The guy had like three extra stomachs or something.

They didn't talk a lot, they ate and they drank gallons of soda and they shot so many zombies his fingers started to hurt. He was going to let Stiles win at first, but then they started harassing each other, bumping and pushing and trying to get the other one killed. Stiles still won, he was like the Yoda of video games.

The two friends laughed and joked, but mostly they just existed together in the same space. That's what they were good at. Stiles didn't move away from Scott when he got close to him the way he tried to get away from Jackson. His best friend had always been comfortable with him. He tried to get Derek's scent off Stiles. Eventually it started to work; Derek was replaced by the smell of pepperoni, cheese, chocolate ice cream, root beer, and Scott. That's how it was supposed to be. Screw Derek.

They made fools of themselves playing DDR, they quoted Star Wars at each other and they played ski ball. Stiles got enough tickets for a pirate hat. He gave it to Scott. Scott got enough tickets for a giant fake gold dollar sign necklace. He gave it to Stiles. They wore them and everyone looked at them like they were insane. That's just how it was supposed to be.

Eventually, Stiles was unable to resist the urge anymore and he finally asked what was in the bag. They were sitting across from each other in a booth. Scott took another sip of his drink.

"It's a gift," Scott told him.

"Allison?" Stiles asked.

Scott gauged his friend's reaction, normally when something like that came up he was resentful or sarcastic, this time he seemed genuinely happy in the idea that he might have something for her. She must have won him over. It was Allison though, like he told Jackson, it wasn't possible to not like her when you got to know her.

"No," Scott told him honestly.

He didn't say anything else he just handed the bag over to Stiles. He wouldn't need to explain. Stiles opened it, pulled out a series of comic books. The title on the front of the first one said 'Batman: Battle for the Cowl'.

Stiles looked at it, stroked his hand over the front cover lovingly. It wasn't old or rare or anything, it was something he just hadn't had a chance to get yet. It was the story of how Dick Grayson, who was once Robin, then Nightwing, became Batman. It was the story of him taking up the mantle himself to carry on Bruce Wayne's legacy.

Something must have gotten in Stiles's eyes because he rubbed at them. It must have been in the air because it got in Scott's too. They both rubbed at their faces, but they didn't say anything. They didn't need to. This was how it was supposed to be. Sometimes one of them was Batman, sometimes one of them was Robin, but they were always a team, and that's all that really mattered in the end.


	16. Sympathetic Attractions

Jackson felt off. He wasn't sure what was wrong. Since lunch time he'd been having trouble focusing. It was like he was desperately hungry, but it didn't matter what he put in his stomach. It wasn't good enough, wasn't sweet enough, wasn't salty enough. It just wasn't enough. It was driving him insane.

He wandered into the kitchen. Allison was there making something to eat. Whatever she was making smelled delicious. He got closer, took a deep breath. There was something different about her scent too. He wondered if she'd changed the type of soap she normally used.

"Smells good," Jackson said. He walked over, leaned next to her against the counter.

She smiled at him. "What smells good?" She opened the cabinet, craned her neck to look for something on the higher shelves. "Why do people put the peanut butter on the highest shelf? It's just cruel."

Jackson turned, stepped behind her. He reached over her shoulder, grabbed the jar of peanut butter. Allison shook her hair out of her face. Jackson took a deep breath, his stomach flipped. She smelled delicious, a combination of strawberries and something else. He wondered what kind of shampoo she used.

Allison reached over her shoulder, but didn't turn to look at him. He stared at the peanut butter in his hand, then watched her fingers wiggling in the air waiting for him to hand her the jar. Her finger's smelled even more delicious than her hair. He licked his lips, leaned in closer.

"Jackson?" Allison sighed. "No teasing, I'm too hungry for teasing." She laughed and shook her head again.

Jackson bit his tongue. He'd been thinking about licking her. What the hell was wrong with him? He pushed the jar of peanut butter into her hands. "Sorry," he said. "Enjoy lunch." He turned and rushed out of the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Allison sounded concerned.

"Yeah I'm good; I'm just going to go look out at the ocean from the terrace." He didn't wait for her response. He rushed up the stairs, needed to get out of her personal space. He was going insane.

At the top of the stairs he caught the scent of whatever had been all over Allison. It flickered through his mind, taunted him. It led him down the hall. He sniffed the air every few feet, stopped in front of the door at the end. He pushed it open.

Whatever it was, whatever he couldn't get out of his mind was inside the room. His mind started to drift. It was strong here. He wandered over to the bed near the window. It wasn't made; pillows and blankets were strewn about. He grabbed one of the pillows. He stared at it for a few moments. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he held it against his face. It had been there in the bed. Desire twisted in his gut. The scent filled up his brain, obliterated his other thoughts. He collapsed onto the bed and tangled the blankets around his body.

He curled his fingers in the sheets, nuzzled his face into the pillow. It was so soft, smelled so wonderful. He wanted to stay in the room, wanted to stay buried in the smell. He took a deep breath, rolled onto his back. He clutched the pillow to his chest.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he realized that something was wrong. He was relatively sure he was in Derek's room. "What the fuck?" he said hysterically. He hurled the pillow away from his body, almost fell as he tried to untangle himself from the sheets and get out of the room. He rushed down the stairs.

He was shaking and panting when he made it into the kitchen. Allison wasn't there. She must have left while he was going insane upstairs. He had to get out, needed some fresh air. He headed out the back, jogged down the ramp to the beach.

He glanced at his watch. Hours had passed. He'd been rolling around on a bed in Derek's room for hours. He was ridiculous and he had no idea why. What the hell was wrong with him? He glanced at his phone. There were messages from Lydia. He ignored them.

Jackson dropped his phone into his pocket, walked aimlessly around the beach. He started going east. There was something in the air. It was incredibly faint, he wasn't sure what it was but it smelled coppery. He had the surreal feeling he was wandering through time. He came across a burned out bonfire. Beer cans littered the area. Some of them smelled incredible.

He was going crazy; he hadn't even realized the sun had begun to set. "This is what going crazy feels like," he whispered to himself. He ignored how talking to himself reinforced what he was already thinking. He couldn't focus, could barely maintain concentration for more than a few minutes at a time.

His phone rang, he jumped at the sound. "Hello?"

"Jackson? Where are you? Get back to the house. We're going dancing tonight." It was a female voice coming through the speaker, but he couldn't place it at first. "Jackson?"

"Lydia?" Jackson thought about asking her for help, but he didn't know what he needed help with, didn't know how to explain it. He didn't know what was wrong with him.

"Of course," Lydia said. "Who else would it be?"

"I… I'll head back. I was just wandering around the beach." He didn't know what else to say.

"Okay. You've got a couple of hours, but I know you always want to look your best. Scott and Stiles are on their way back to the house. The plan was a success, no thanks to Derek."

Jackson hung up on her. Stiles, he needed to talk to Stiles. He took off towards the house at a run. He'd thought he was hungry before, but now he was starving. Some small part of him wished that he'd taken a shower after practicing. He hoped he didn't smell too bad. He'd just hop into the hot tub for a second when he got back to the house. That would get the sweat off his skin. He didn't want to go in and run into Stiles while he was covered in sand from running around the beach.

He set a pace that ate the distance quickly. He needed to get back. He dodged around people, didn't bother to stop and apologize to the one person he hadn't moved around in time. He barely noticed the impact, barely registered their angry voice yelling at him.

He jogged up the ramp at the back of the house, headed towards the side that had the hot tub. He could hear it running. The most intoxicating smell was coming from near it. Stiles, it was Stiles. Jackson's brain short circuited and went offline.

The young beta didn't even bother to strip off his red athletic shorts as he came around the corner at something only slightly less than a run. A slender athletic boy who smelled like root beer and ice cream and that thing he had wanted all day was stepping into the hot tub. His back was to Jackson. The beta licked his lips, stalked forward. So close, he was so unbearably close. He leapt over the edge of the tub, collided with short male inside.

There was brief moment of struggle; Jackson sank his teeth into the side of the neck he had wanted to taste all day. He got a full hand of the dark hair that was… that was longer than he thought it should be. A warning tried to sound in his brain, but his inner wolf tore its throat out before the thought could form fully.

He curled one of his arms around the neck in front of him, his bicep against the person's cheek. The guy in his arms struggled for a moment, took a deep breath. The guy tensed up, was about to focus all his energy to hurl Jackson away. The person in his arms froze after taking the breath, made a needy growl. The noise came from deep in the throat under Jackson's teeth.

The tantalizing swipe of a tongue brushed against his bicep. Jackson felt a hand with sharp nails grab his wrist to hold him in place. He winced slightly when pin pricks of pain registered in his barely working brain. Teeth bit into the meat of his arm. The sensation settled low in his balls. He rutted against the body he was holding. He was harder than he ever remembered being. The guy ground his ass back against Jackson's groin, let out another throaty noise.

The teeth that had his arm released their grip, the body twisted in his grasp. The guy was slippery and wet. His skin fevered the way Jackson's skin felt. Need coiled about Jackson's lungs, choked out his breath. Lips closed over his, it was so hot and so fierce. He wanted so much more. Tongues slipped against each other, hands sprouted claws. Athletic shorts and swim trunks were shredded. It was all the slick wet slide of flesh, the occasional sharp spike of fangs through skin.

Green glowing eyes met burning amber and all human reason abandoned the two bodies as they pushed and pulled, bit and licked at each other. Jackson got his fingers curled into the back of the other guy's hair, pulled his head back so that he could get more access to the throat that kept making encouraging noises. He could feel the person's pulse with his tongue. The guy's heartbeat was a pounding rhythm that his own cock thrummed in unison with. Hands gripped him. He howled out his pleasure against the smooth throat under his teeth. It wasn't elegant or romantic. It was primal and needy. They rutted and thrust themselves against each other.

They pushed and pulled, slammed each other into the walls of the tub hard enough they almost cracked it apart. It didn't matter. The scent was all around Jackson. Hunger had him, wasn't letting go. It was getting worse. They wrestled, bodies slamming into each other. Sweat, hot water, so much bare skin, the friction made Jackson delirious.

They were struggling for control, for dominance. Jackson got a good hold on the smaller body's neck. He wanted to howl out in triumph. He lifted the struggling guy out of the water, pinned him on the edge of the tub. He didn't have time to howl his victory into the night; there was something he wanted more. He gripped the base of the guy's dick, watched the flesh twitch. The body underneath him bucked up into his hand.

_**MORE!**_

Jackson leaned down and took a deep breath. The scent was overwhelming. It was different, not what he'd wanted so badly, but it was right there. He wanted it anyway. He closed his lips around the tip of the guy's cock. He sucked hard and long, swallowed as much of it as he could.

One hand gripped him by the back of his hair, hips tried to thrust up into his mouth. He let it happen, relished it. Another hand reached between his legs, caught his erection. He'd desperately needed the friction. He whimpered around the flesh he was sucking on, a wet sound of need that made the hand on his cock grip him tighter and start to jack him wildly.

_**NOW!**_

The command, the need, the power of it, he had no idea where it was coming from. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he wouldn't let go. He worked his mouth and throat around the guy underneath him, thrust his hips into the hand that twisted and pulled. Jackson was being torn apart by the pleasure of it. Hot streams of fluid pulsed into his mouth; the taste of it was too much, too good.

The hand around him tugged expertly. He whined around the cock in his mouth, came hard enough that it made his body shake. He lapped at the softening flesh he released from his mouth. The guy under him made tortured and pleased sounds. A gentle hand fondled his balls, rolled them between wet fingers. Those fingers knew what they were doing, made Jackson feel so good.

Jackson panted, tried to regain his senses. Lips closed over his again, a tongue pushed its way into his mouth. He sucked in their mixed scent, the scent of what they'd done, along with the lingering thing that had brought him there in the first place. It was like a siren's song of desire Jackson had no name for. It was just a fierce instinctual need.

A high pitched voice shattered the moment. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Jackson's mind snapped back to full attention. He realized Scott's tongue was in his mouth; Scott's hand was on his dick. Lydia's voice was a shrill ringing in his ears.


	17. Solve for Z

Lydia stood just inside the back doors. She tapped her foot impatiently waiting for Scott and Jackson to get themselves presentable. She had grabbed towels from the bathroom and thrown them outside. She was not going back out there while they were naked and screaming at each other.

The only saving grace of the situation was that Allison and Stiles were already gone. She had sent them ahead so that Allison could give Stiles a few dance lessons at the club before Derek got there. Derek was powerful and masculine. He was an adult. She doubted he would be lured in by Stiles if all he did on the dance floor was nod his head and shake his fists in circles like he was in the midst of an epileptic fit.

She had created him a new look, but clothes and accessories were good only if the person could make them work. A prop was just a prop; it took an actor to give it life. She had set the stage, she had assembled the players, she had dressed the star, but she couldn't move him, couldn't talk for him. Unfortunately, Stiles would have to do some of it on his own. Either that or he would have to fall back on clumsy and adorable. It was in his wheelhouse, but that didn't mean it would work.

Lydia sighed. She hated to be kept waiting. She had no idea what she had done in order to be forced to continually stumble upon boys touching each other. She wasn't against it; she was practically trying to put Derek's dick in Stiles's mouth. She just hadn't been prepared to see Jackson and Scott like that.

If anything she had always assumed Jackson would come out when he finally admitted to himself that Danny was the one for him. Danny would be either crushed or elated at Jackson's cliff dive into sexy boy action. It could go either way. She didn't have enough information to predict the outcome.

Scott though, that was odd. Scott practically lived inside Allison's personal space. It took an act of truly epic proportion these days in order for him to go to the bathroom without her. He loved her so much he never wanted to be apart from her. Why was he suddenly breathing air directly out of another guy's lungs? Something didn't add up. She would solve it, she knew that she would. She just had to get all the variables first.

She glanced back at the door. There was no way to estimate the amount of time it would take for the two boys to swallow their pride, and come back inside. That meant that she had a few moments to solve the equation, and then devise a strategy to make the boys think they did it on their own.

Lydia may have opened up to Stiles, but Jackson and Scott? She shook her head and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. No. She was already trying to juggle Allison and her growing awareness of who Lydia was; she didn't have the desire to share that with a horny litter of puppies. More than that she wasn't comfortable with Derek yet, some part of her associated him with his uncle. It wasn't fair exactly, but Peter had nearly killed her and now Derek was in control of that power.

Something clicked in her mind. She rolled it around for a moment, catalogued it, and kept thinking. She heard raised voices from outside.

"I don't know what the hell that was!" Jackson yelled.

"Dude, you basically raped me!" Scott yelled back.

Something smashed into the side of the house. Lydia sighed. Boys were so violent.

"You grabbed my junk first!" Jackson countered.

"You practically dry humped me while trying to put me in a sleeper hold!"

Lydia couldn't help, but giggle at that. Scott sounded so scandalized. She wondered if they'd been drinking.

"You kissed me!" Jackson's accusation made it sound like the greater offense by far.

"You held me down and gave me a blowjob!" Scott's voice raised an octave.

"It's not my fault! I was flipping out. I spent all day in a trance. At one point I was running back and forth around the beach like a headless chicken. Besides, I'm pretty sure I didn't jack myself off." Jackson was beginning to sound more confused and less angry.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Scott asked.

Lydia considered that. What did it have to do with anything? The two of them had been slightly friendlier since they'd arrived on the beach. She hadn't thought they'd been naked sexy times friendly, but she wasn't around them all the time.

"I wish I knew!" Jackson shouted.

There was a pause, or the conversation dropped in volume enough that she couldn't hear them anymore. Why would Jackson flip out? Why would he run around the beach? No one had explored the beach very much besides Stiles despite the fact that they were supposed to be there on a vacation, the irony of which was not lost on her. Jackson had been odd this entire trip, particularly since the drive up. He seemed nearly as angry as Derek.

Something else clicked in her mind. She almost had it. Jackson was almost as angry as Derek on the ride up. Derek had been angry at Stiles because he wouldn't be quiet. At one point Jackson had practically attacked Stiles. He'd knocked her phone on the floor. She'd considered skinning him alive, but kept her temper in check. It was like Jackson was mirroring what Derek was feeling.

She had it. She had it all. She knew what was going on. When they were in the school, Peter, as the Alpha, had compelled Scott to try to kill them. What if Derek was unconsciously compelling Jackson? What if Derek wasn't as in control of his new power as he appeared?

That would mean…

"Oh no…" Lydia shook her head. Things were about to get bad if she was right. She was almost always right, but for the first time in her life she wanted to be wrong. She didn't want to think about the consequences of what would happen if she was right.

They had to get to the warehouse before Derek did. She'd already told him what time to be there. The party they were going to, it was on the edge of town. There wasn't going to be any security, no bouncers. It wouldn't matter if there were. They wouldn't have been able to stop Derek if he lost control. If he saw Allison or anyone else with their hooks in the new sexier looking Stiles, things could get very ugly.

They had to go. They had to go fast. Even though she'd solved the equation she couldn't help but feel like she was missing one more thing. It was like she had rounded it instead of mapping it exactly. She didn't have any more time though, for all she knew Derek could already be tearing the warehouse down brick by brick. So many people, they wouldn't have anywhere to run.

Lydia pulled out her phone. She needed to warn Allison before it was too late. She didn't have time for the boys to sort out whatever it was that had happened. They needed to get to the warehouse. Jackson and Scott were the only ones who could keep Derek from hurting anyone.

"Jackson! Scott! We have a problem!" Lydia didn't like how stressed she sounded. She took a deep breath. "Get in here right now!" She shook her head as they came through the door with towels wrapped around their waists. "Get dressed fast!"


	18. Allison in Wonderland

Allison and Stiles made their way through the darkened streets towards the outskirts of the little town near the beach resort. They were on their way to the warehouse the party was being held in. "I look ridiculous," Stiles said.

Allison gave him an incredulous stare. She thought he looked amazing. Lydia had transformed Stiles into a different person. Her attention to detail was simply wonderful. He was wearing a white sleeveless vest over a light blue shirt. The vest had a bright silver zipper. There were random slashes of dark paint that she knew would glow faintly purple once they were fully in the dark.

His arms were bare from the shoulders down to where thin blue glow sticks had been twisted around his wrists. The bulky bandages he'd applied himself were gone, in their place there were thin linen bandages that covered his palms while leaving his fingers and thumbs full mobility. Her eyes trailed down further, momentarily lingering on a silver linked belt, the metal glimmered and cast back the lights coming from his wrists.

The belt rested somewhat loosely through the loops of a pair of white cargo pants, they sat low and hugged his hips giving a good view of his behind and a teasing outline along the front of his…

"My eyes are up here," Stiles told her.

She blushed, but didn't say anything. Her gaze continued down over his thighs. She smiled at swirling patterns of the same colored paint that was on the front of his vest. On the pants it was also intertwined with streaks that would turn bright blue. The many pockets had silver snaps and each one had a spiral of one color or the other. He was wearing white sneakers with blinking LED shoelaces in the same colors. He was a swirling maze of electric blue and soft pulsing violet on a white background. He looked ready to go to a rave, which was good, because that's exactly where they were going.

"This is my favorite part, but I don't think anyone's going to see it," she said as she brushed her hand lightly over his back.

Allison laughed as he turned his head trying to look behind him, the candy necklace he was wearing riding up slightly over the muscles in his neck as they drew tight. She ran her fingers over it lightly, the image painted between his shoulder blades in the middle of a field of white. It was a triskele, three interlinked spirals. It was the same as the one that Derek had tattooed on his back.

It was drawn out in electric blue glow-in-the-dark paint. As they moved away from the lights and crossed the street heading toward the warehouse, it gave off a faint blue light. It was as if the street artist had branded Stiles with Derek's mark.

"Why wouldn't they see it?" Stiles asked.

"Because they're going to be looking at this," she said as she playfully swatted his backside.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Stiles said. His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. "Scott's going to get jealous if he sees you all over me!"

She giggled and adjusted the backpack she was wearing with one hand and then held up a small stuffed brown bear dressed in a navy blue hoody that she had in her other, placing it between the two of them. "Scott knows that Mr. Bear is chaperoning us."

"Scott also told me that you shot him with a taser. I imagine he has more faith in that than Snuggles the bear." Stiles winked at her.

"I've got it in my backpack, so you better be good!" She reached the hand that wasn't holding the bear behind her back as though to draw her weapon. She doubted she'd need it, but it never hurt to have something just in case.

"Don't tase me ladybro," Stiles yelped. He threw his hands up in mock defense.

Allison laughed and pushed him as they stepped up onto the curb. They'd been able to hear the pulsing thumps of rhythm from much further down the street. This close she felt it reverberating through her chest. She was excited, hoped that she would fit in as well as Stiles would.

She was wearing a strapless dress that flared out around her hips with lace ruffles. It was white and neon green. She had a green glow-in-the-dark bow in her hair with matching glow sticks twisted around her waist and arms. She was like the green raver version of a Hello Kitty doll. Stiles had given her two thumbs up when he'd first seen her outfit. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing considering his normal fashion sense.

"You ready?" Allison was a little worried. Stiles sort of looked like he was going to throw up.

"No." He shifted back and forth in place, shook his hands and head. He made it seem like he was going to face a firing squad and not a group of young people drinking and dancing.

"Wonderful!" Allison grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building.

The music had been loud outside; inside it was a riot of electric synthesizers, bass beats, and pounding drums. It was crowded, much more so than she would have expected considering that it was still fairly early. Lydia had told her to bring Stiles here and give him a crash course in sexy. She hadn't explained to Allison why they were doing this.

After seeing the mark on the back of Stiles's vest, she started to figure it out. She'd seen the original on several occasions when she went with Scott to the pack's training sessions on the Hale estate after everyone had recovered from the battle with Peter. The training rarely involved having shirts on. Derek and Stiles, Allison hadn't ever imagined that would be a possibility. She'd never thought she'd be dating a werewolf either. The world was a crazy place. She wasn't going to begrudge anyone the chance to find happiness with someone else.

She looked around futilely searching for the girls that had invited her to the party the day before. Allison had been waiting in a small boutique while Lydia tried on bathing suits. She'd overheard the girls talking excitedly about it. They struck up a conversation with her and told her the details. When Lydia texted her about wanting to go dancing, her thoughts immediately turned to the rave. It would be the perfect spot to go. She had gone and bought the clothes she was wearing while Lydia and the others were busy with Stiles.

"Well, no time like the present!" If she was going to teach Stiles to dance, they might as well get started. She pulled him into the center of the dance floor. Stiles looked like he was really nervous, but in the dark pulsing sea of bodies and ultraviolet lights he looked surreal. The layers of white turned pale violet in the shine of the black lights, the paints lit up fully and the effect was complete. She twirled him around, much to his dismay; she noticed the image on his back was like a blazing sigil in the darkness.

They danced for almost an hour, maybe more. Allison wasn't sure exactly. It was all feeling, no rational thought. They were lost in the music, twisted amongst the bodies. Heat pressed down on them. It was wonderful; the music took them to a magical place where action and light replaced words and reason. By the time they decided to take a break they were breathing heavily and sweating; they drank water out of the bottles in her backpack

Stiles was slowly getting the hang of it. He started following the trails of light across the darkness, focusing on the spinning visual stimuli and less on how his own body moved in it. She'd told him to sway with the beat, to let it shake him down and spin him through the darkness. At first he looked at her like she was crazy. Eventually he loosened up, looked like he was starting to have fun.

Bodies came and went. People she didn't know danced around, between, and with them. Everyone touched everyone else and no one cared because that's not what mattered. All that mattered was the pulsing music and the twisting lights.

Allison noticed a blonde haired teenager near the wall closest to them that seemed to be trying to make love to Stiles's nipples through the tight shirt he was wearing. "You've got an admirer!" She had to yell to be heard over the music.

"What?" Stiles leaned in closer, cupped a hand behind his ear.

She patted his cheek, pointed towards the guy near the wall. Stiles looked at him, his eyes widened in shocked recognition. They watched as the guy moved out onto the dance floor and started to head towards them.

She felt her phone vibrate against her back through the thin material of her small backpack. She tapped Stiles. After a second he tore his eyes away from the guy stalking towards them. She made the universal symbol for a telephone with her fingers against the side of her head then pointed towards the door. He shook his head negatively. He cast a nervous glance at the guy who was less than ten yards from them.

Allison started to walk out. He began to follow her. She stopped and playfully pushed him back towards the dance floor. She nodded towards the guy. She thought maybe he could teach Stiles a little bit more about how to dance while she found out what the call was about. He stumbled away, gave her a frightened rabbit look. She laughed, turned and headed outside.

For a brief second she thought she saw a pair of furious red lights in the far corner of the warehouse. She shook her head. It was nothing. They were just little pin pricks in the sea of flashing lights and blinking LEDs.


	19. Follow the White Rabbit

Stiles wanted to strangle Allison. You did not leave a man behind, that's not how things were done. She'd broken guy code. She wasn't a guy, but if they were going to build forts she'd have to swear into the fraternity. That probably meant he had to swear in on the girl code, but he had no idea what that would mean. He'd have to braid her hair or something. He was about to chase after her when a warm hand tapped him on his bare shoulder. He spun around, licked his lips nervously and looked straight into the eyes of the blonde guy with the enigmatic smile who he'd shared beers around the bonfire with.

"Hey… you." He sounded lame, but he couldn't remember the guy's name.

The blonde smirked at him. Stiles couldn't help but grin a little bit. That smile was contagious.

"You ran off pretty quick last night, right when things were getting good."

Stiles licked his lips again. The guy stepped into his personal space. People all around him were jostling them; the dance floor was treacherous and conspiring against him. Someone bumped into him. He fell forward into the blonde who put his hands on Stiles's hips to steady him. Or to you know; get a freebie grope in, one or the other.

"I-I had to go." Stiles wasn't sure what else to say. He wondered if they made a hallmark card to thank someone for getting you drunk and then trying to kiss you. It'd probably sell really well on college campuses.

"I figured that was the case when you left suddenly."

The music seemed to be getting louder. In order to hear each other they had to get practically cheek to cheek. They weren't making eye contact, had to yell into each other's ears to be heard.

Little puffs of hot breath tickled his ear and neck. Stiles put his hands on the guy's wrists, because the blonde was still holding onto his hips. He got pushed again needed to steady himself. More bodies pressed in closer, started to move and sway around them.

Stiles wasn't sure how it happened but they were sort of either dancing with each other or the dude was trying to smother him. He thought the blonde was like a freaking spider-monkey the way he clung to him, or possibly an octopus because the he had too many hands and they were everywhere, including on his junk at one point.

Stiles emitted a high pitched squeak at the grope. It got swallowed up by the booming music. He backed away from the guy abruptly and pantomimed wanting to get a drink out of a bottle of water. The way the guy leered at him made Stiles think that he misinterpreted though. That was odd; he was the bomb at charades.

Stiles made his way off the dance floor, headed towards the wall where the entrance to the building was. He wanted to be able to see Allison when she came back in. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slapped away one of the spider-monkey's tentacles with one hand as he unlocked his phone. He had a message from Lydia. His mouth dropped open when he read it.

It said, _'Wves! ChaSing Alison, gt ot!1111!'_

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Lydia normally had excellent texting skills. He dodged away from another grasping appendage and walked towards the door. Pain blossomed in his face, for some reason he was suddenly on his ass and seeing stars.

"What the fuck?" Stiles could barely think. He shook his head to try to clear it. He glanced up and realized someone had thrown the door open right into his face. A blur of white and green rocketed through the crowd. A green glow-in-the-dark bow fell to the ground in front of him.

"Allison?" Stiles tried to call after the form, but it was quickly lost in a sea of people. He climbed unsteadily to his feet as the door was swinging closed. He took a few steps back from it. He didn't trust it since it had betrayed him once.

His hands stung from where they had hit the cement floor when he got dumped on his ass. He rubbed them together. The blonde guy was all over him again, but at least this time he was trying to make sure Stiles was okay rather than trying to have sex with him through his clothes.

The door crashed open again with a bang that resounded through the building over the amplified bass beats. Stiles smiled happily. It was Scott and Jackson.

He sucked a deep breath into his lungs to yell at them over the music. "Dudes, you finally made it." His yell barely surpassed the feverish pitch of the music. "I figured you were just going to stay in all night making out or something." His second yell managed to come out right into the silence between songs changing.

Stiles hated his life. He would yell that out during the few seconds it took the DJ to add new records to his turn table. '_Fuck my life'_, he thought to himself.

Scott and Jackson turned to him. He was expecting to see good natured scowls due to his latest bromance joke. What he saw was something completely different. The two betas looked like they were possessed. Burning golden eyes were side by side with incandescent green ones.

"Fuck my life," he said aloud as the two turned and stalked towards him. It was just a joke, why would they flip out over it? It's not like they really spent their free to banging each other.

The music started raging again. He couldn't hear whatever the guy next to him was saying, but he felt the guy's hand on his side again, had the sense that he was leaning in to call out something else. Well, that was probably what was on the guy's mind, but before Stiles found out, Scott gripped the guy's shirt and hurled him into the crowd of people nearby. Stiles was pretty sure people weren't supposed to crowd surf at raves. He hadn't been to one, but that was his general sense. Crowd surfing was not a rave thing.

He opened his mouth to say something that would have been swallowed up by the music anyway, but choked on it instead when he suddenly felt a body press tightly against him from behind. Stiles turned his head to the side, saw the side of Jackson's face for a moment in his peripheral vision.

Jackson had gone insane. Another impact from the front fractured his concentration. Scott was right up against him, _right_ up against him. Fingers sharp with claws scratched lightly at his waist, tangled in the silver links of his belt.

Stiles had been wrong. Jackson wasn't going insane. Stiles realized he was going insane. There was simply no explanation for what was going on. He'd been hit in the face with the door and gotten a concussion. That was the only way what was going on made any sense. He opened his mouth to try to protest, tried to raise his arms to push Scott away, but hands like bear traps caught his arms and held him in place. Hot breath swept over the back of his neck. Jackson was behind him. Scott was in front of him. They were grinding their hips into his. Stiles had no idea what the hell had happened to the world he knew and loved.

Scott leaned in, lapped at Stiles neck. He bit at the necklace of candy and Stiles's skin. It was like Stiles had dropped acid. His best friend was eating candy directly off his throat. He didn't think things could possibly get any weirder.

Hot breath turned into wet heat when Jackson's mouth closed over his spine. Stiles had been wrong again. His life could get weirder. Fate hated him. He wasn't sure why, didn't know what he'd done, but clearly he'd pissed fate off. He wasn't clear on why having Jackson and Scott dry hump him in the middle of a rave was his punishment though.

Jackson was mirroring what Scott was doing. It was so wrong, but Stiles was a teenage boy and the situation he was in could not happen without a very predictable reaction. He was getting hard. He was hysterical and full of adrenaline, but it was happening. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do. He was pinned between two well built lacrosse playing _werewolves_ with their teeth on his throat. They were eating candy off his skin.

One of Scott's hands got under his shirt, the other burrowed into the front right pocket of his cargo pants. Jackson let go of one of his arms, dropped the hand that been holding Stiles into the back left pocket of Stiles's pants. It was so disturbing how in sync they were with each other. Stiles used his one free arm to try to push on Scott, to get his best friend off him. Scott didn't move. He could feel their chests rumbling, they were growling and nipping at him. He was trapped between twin furnaces.

Stiles looked around for help. He realized despite the haze over his brain that something was happening not far away from him. People were pushing at each other, trying to run towards the door. He couldn't tell what was going on. Scott's mop of black hair obscured his vision. Stiles sighed, what an inopportune time for his friend to decide he wanted to change where he was lapping at his neck.

He knew that he should be reacting more; he just didn't want to know. It was like his brain was frozen. Scott's position shifted again, over his shoulder Stiles so something he never thought he would.

Derek had picked the blonde haired guy with the enigmatic smile up. The Alpha had one hand around the guy's neck; the other was reaching out for Allison. She was backing away from him. She pulled something out of her backpack. The weirdest thought crossed Stiles's overloaded brain; he wondered what had become of Mr. Bear.

Derek's eyes were bright red, almost like molten metal. They were furious. Actually they were whatever could kick furious's ass and leave it bleeding on the sidewalk for being such a sissy pacifist. Whatever that was, that's what Derek's eyes were like. Derek let out an inhuman roar that felt like it was going to shatter all the glass in the building.

He watched Allison make the biggest mistake of her life. There was nothing he could do because he still couldn't move even though both betas had frozen under the primal roar that made the humans all around them cover their ears and start running in a panic. Stiles wanted to yell out in warning, wanted to do something, but his throat closed up on him. He felt like Derek's howl was shaking his bones.

Allison pulled out the little taser he'd joked with her about. She fired it directly into Derek's chest. The Alpha didn't even twitch with the electricity. Stiles had heard about Kate's electro prod, that thing Allison had was like bringing a rubber duck to a tank fight. She was so screwed.

Derek hurled the spider-monkey guy into the frightened sea of humanity roiling about them. He leaned forward, claws sprouted from his hands. He leapt at the dark haired girl who'd given it her all. Tears filled Stiles's eyes. Derek was going to eviscerate her.

They were never going to get to make their fort. She was never going to swear on the guy code. He'd never get to braid her hair. Allison was just going to be a wet red smear on the ground. Stiles was never going to be able to look Scott in the eyes again. He wouldn't be able to stand seeing the pain that would be there, it would kill Stiles, tear his heart out just the same way that Derek was going to tear Allison's heart out. Stiles didn't even know why. Had no idea what had driven Derek into such a terrifying rage.

Derek sailed through the air, his claws snatched nothing but the air above Allison's body as she rolled underneath him, twisted her body as she went and came up facing his back. Stiles had no idea that Allison was secretly a ninja. She could totally touch his comic books. He pumped his fist through the air. He wanted to yell out encouragement, but Jackson's claws closed on his wrist.

"Crap," he muttered.

Scott and Jackson still had their teeth on his throat. They were doing their level best to lick their way through the muscles straining in his neck. Stiles had almost forgotten about them as he watched the altercation between Allison and Derek. A game of cat and mouse had never been so unfairly matched. Well, wolf and mouse, he supposed. Or maybe it was wolf and cat. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything as elaborate as an analogy when his best friend and his best friend's rival where rutting against him?

The whole bromance had gotten way out of control. The sarcastic part of Stiles's brain wanted to ask them if they could stop trying to have sex with each other through his body. Maybe if they'd just gotten a room and some alone time with each other earlier he wouldn't have two hard teenage werewolves trying to put the fire in their bodies out by rubbing it into his body.

Stiles wished he'd taken more Adderall. It was not the time for his mind to wander. He took another deep breath to yell out to Derek, to try to stop him, get his attention, to do anything he could to redirect his fury towards the two betas and himself. The yell died in his throat. An entirely too calm Lydia walk right up to the wall not fifteen feet away from him and pull the emergency fire alarm.

Water sprayed down from above them. All three werewolves looked up at the ceiling. Hot damn he fucking loved Lydia! She was brilliant! Stiles looked back at Allison. She was backing away from Derek. It was one thing to fool him once with a graceful tumble. Stiles didn't think she'd fool him twice.

People started pouring out of the exits. Some of them even climbed out windows that they broke open in their haste to escape the madness that was unfolding and the sudden downpour. Massive panic had gripped the humans in the building. Stiles wished he could escape too, wished he was going to wake up and none of what was happening was real.

"Scott!" Allison's scream was high pitched and full of fear.

Scott shook his head like he was coming out of a daze. Stiles watched Scott turn toward the Alpha who was closing on Allison again. Derek was moving much more carefully than he had the first time. Stiles couldn't see the look on his Scott's face, but he could imagine it, especially when Scott took off in a flurry of speed toward Derek's back.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" Scott's voice was full of fury. He dropped down to all fours as he rushed toward the Alpha closing in on Allison.

If Stiles hadn't been so scared, he would have thought Scott's bellow was easily as awesome as Derek's roar had been. Stiles stumbled forward slightly when Jackson let go of him.

Jackson shook his head. "What's going on?" He sounded genuinely confused.

Stiles wished he could have said something, wished he knew what to say. He was too busy watching Scott rush towards Derek. He wished Jackson would go after Derek too; maybe together the two of them could stop him. Jackson wasn't moving through, he seemed paralyzed in place.


	20. Blood Pouring Down Like Rain

Derek had arrived at the location Lydia sent him via text message earlier than he was supposed to. He'd wanted to scout out the area, to make sure that it was safe for his pack. He also wouldn't admit it to himself fully, but he had wanted to make sure it was a place where Stiles would enjoy himself.

_Hunger. Desire. Need._

He shook his head at the thoughts twisting through his brain. They were his thoughts and they weren't all at the same time. The power of the Alpha, it amplified and at the same time simplified portions of his mind. This thing with Stiles—this thing that he wouldn't let happen—had grown quickly out of his control. Derek normally found the kid irritating as hell, especially when trapped in enclosed spaces with him. The van ride from Beacon Hills had been a perfect illustration of why.

Derek liked peace, liked quiet. He wanted things to be calm. When he thought about laughing, when he thought about smiling and joking it reminded him of things he didn't have in his life anymore. Once his home had been something a person like Stiles would have loved. There had been so many people running around. Children played games while adults cooked food or cheered at the TV. It was a life that no one who wasn't a werewolf could understand fully, but they would be able to see how warm it was.

Being a werewolf, being a member of a pack, that sense of community meant never being alone. When Kate burned his house down, when she had murdered everyone he'd ever loved except for his sister, she had locked him in a cage of solitude and nightmares. Laura had been the only thing he had left. Then his uncle killed her, then he killed his uncle, and then he was entirely alone.

_Fury. Vengeance. Pain_

Fire in his mind tried to burn up all that was left of Derek and leave only the Alpha. He needed to focus on something else. Derek closed his eyes, ignored the music in the air that was starting up. He disregarded the people who entered the dance floor. He breathed calmly, tried to stay focused. He relaxed his hands so that they were not clenched into fists.

He'd bitten Jackson because he saw something in the young man that reminded him of himself. Not the person he used to be, but the Derek of today. He'd seen someone who was alone. If it hadn't been in the first hours of his ascension to Alpha he may not have done it, but the instinct was still too much raw power at the time. He could have killed Jackson with the bite. Not everyone lived through the change. It was rash and irresponsible, but it was also the beginning of a new chapter in his life.

With Jackson in his pack, with Scott joining in as well, with Allison and even Lydia, Derek was no longer truly alone.

Stiles though, Stiles had proven to be something more than Derek had ever thought he would be. That night he'd awoken to Stiles soothing him, whispering into his hair, Derek saw something unexpected. He knew that the teenager was caring, that he would go to any lengths to do whatever he could for the people he cared about. He knew that Stiles would try to provide whatever it was those people needed. Derek had just never thought he would be one of the people who Stiles would do those things for.

Derek was the leader of their pack, but he had never felt truly a part of it until that day in the kitchen. When they were making food together and everyone was laughing and joking. It had made him happy. Stiles had seen that happiness, he had seen right through Derek's exterior like he had the x-ray vision his comic book heroes had. He wanted to protect Stiles. He wanted to protect all of them. He wasn't going to lose another family.

A shining blue light flickered in the darkness of the dance floor. It caught Derek's attention. It pulled him forth from his memories. It was his family's symbol branded on Stiles's back.

_**MINE!**_

The force of it rocked him at the core. One of the females of the pack was on what was _his._ She should have known better. He growled under his breath and took a step forward. Some weak creature stumbled as he impacted it. It didn't matter to him. There was a pulsing wave of flesh between him and what he wanted. It shifted and moved, caused him to lose sight of his target. He sniffed the air to try to locate what he wanted.

There were too many scents, too many things keeping him from finding it. He used his arms to wade through the obstacles. They cried out, some of them even got angry, but when they saw him they shrank back. They were the smart ones. Others were not so smart, they challenged him. They stood their ground. He barely had any interest in them as he tossed them aside. They were just little insects that should have known their place.

He caught sight of his target again. There was an intruder on him; a stranger that he had once sensed on what was _his_. This arrogant little creature would suffer. He would pull it apart to find out what was inside that made it think that it could touch what was his. He wanted to know what made the creature think that he could take it for himself. The female from his pack who'd crossed the line would be dealt with eventually. She would need to be disciplined, put in her place. First he had to get his jaws on the interloper who touched things that he shouldn't.

'_Run little creature. Run so that I can hunt you. Run so that your blood is hot when my jaws crush your throat. I want to taste the heat,' _the Alpha thought.

It was primal, full of base instinct. There was no Derek, there was only the Alpha. It was ready to take what belonged to it. His pack was close. He could feel them. He knew they would herd the creature back to him. That was what a pack did, they hunted together, and they shared the kill.

The pack was all around him. His betas stepped forward, did as they were bid. The shorter one hurled the creature that had touched what it should not have touched towards him. The other went to make sure that their weaker pack mate was alright.

The Alpha got his claws around the squirming creature that had wronged him. The female member of the pack who had overstepped came out of the crowd, fear scent leaked off her. That was good. He needed to show her where she stood in the pack. She needed to know her place.

He reached for her, wanted the betas to herd her to him as well. They didn't come to his side. He watched them close in on what was his. He let out a menacing growl. They needed to be taught a lesson too. He was the leader. They would respect what was his. Anger and fury bubbled up in him. He was out of patience, out of forgiveness. He dug his claws slightly into the squirming creature in his grasp. He wanted to take his time with it. He wanted to savor his vengeance.

Something stung him in the chest. He looked at the female who had overstepped. She'd challenged him! She'd bitten him with her little metal teeth on their little wire. It was nothing, nothing like what he was going to do to her.

He roared out all of his fury at the betas who had betrayed him, at the female who challenged him, at the little worthless thing that twisted in his hands like a baby deer. He wanted to eat the thing, but he would first have to deal with the challenge from the female. His supremacy in the pack could not be questioned so boldly without an answer.

He hurled the little thing in his hands into the mob of prey that twitched and screamed around him. He had the scent of it, it couldn't escape. He would hunt it. He would love it when it was caught.

First the female would learn not to bite her Alpha. He leapt towards the female to pin her to the ground. He wanted his jaws on her throat, wanted to make her submit. She rolled underneath him. She was too quick. She was clever, that's why he'd liked her. She was lithe, could move quickly and gracefully. She was dangerous.

The female didn't have her claws with her. She didn't have the stinging contraption that could cause pain from outside his reach. That meant she was at an even greater disadvantage. He stalked her. He was going to enjoy catching her too. Her fear smelled delicious.

The Alpha searched the room, sniffed at the air. His other female was clever, he wondered where she was. The one with the red fur wouldn't be far behind if the rest of them were already gathered. If this was an attempt to become the alpha female then she might be close by. She might be in on it. He hadn't chosen an Alpha female yet; he would not be forced to do it by one of them. He would be careful. She wasn't dangerous the way the dark furred one was with her stinging metal teeth, but that didn't mean she wasn't a threat.

Rain started to fall. Water came from above. He glanced up momentarily distracted. It shouldn't have been able to rain inside.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" One of the betas roared.

It was a challenge. The Alpha turned his head; one of his betas was coming. That member of the pack had strength and speed. It had claws and teeth that could hurt him. They were all turning on him, trying to take what he wanted. They wanted to keep the choice prize for themselves. It was too much. They would suffer for their arrogance. The human trappings he was encased in exploded away from him. They couldn't contain the muscles that strained and stretched his skin. He met the beta's howl with one of his own. He dropped down on all fours; his roar was different from the beta's. It came from a snarling muzzle. He was in his true form; the weak human thing he had been was gone.

The beta rushed at him, its golden eyes furious. The beta was stupid. It leapt at him with claws extended. He snatched it out of the air, got his claws around its throat. He roared into its face. A lone wolf could be dangerous, but only to an opponent that was weaker than it was. To face a stronger foe it would need the support of its pack.

The beta twisted in his claws, braced its feet against his chest. The Alpha had seen this before, watched the beta try it on the previous Alpha. He let go of the beta's throat and stepped back as the beta thrust its legs out. Its body flailed in the air. It hadn't made the impact it needed to carry it backwards and away from him. It fell to the cement. The sound it made when it landed wasn't enough to satisfy the Alpha. It had to pay more.

He rushed forward, caught the beta by its ankle. He crushed bone and sinew, swung it through the air. It spun into a nearby wall with a far more satisfying crunch. The Alpha moved to follow his opponent, but was surprised as something stung his rear leg.

He roared out in pain and turned. The other beta had joined the fight. It had better instinct, tried to hamstring him while he was occupied with the smaller beta. If they'd attacked together at the beginning it could have made a difference. Unfortunately for the blonde furred one it was too little too late.

The golden eyed beta would need time to heal its crushed leg and whatever else had broken when it crashed against the wall. The green eyed beta retreated, tried to evaluate the damage it had done. It had much better instincts. The Alpha feinted left. The beta reacted predictably and went right.

The shock in its green eyes was satisfying; the rancid stink of fear that poured off it was invigorating. He caught its arm in his jaws and crushed it. Blood sprayed, filled the Alpha's mouth with its crimson heat. The beta howled out in pain.

The Alpha shook his head violently. A loud popping filled the warehouse. The arm came loose of its socket. The Alpha released the beta's arm from his jaws, hurled it in the same direction it had sent the other. He couldn't let them get on opposite sides of him. Even wounded that would make them more dangerous. He couldn't let them circle him.

The Alpha closed in on them, noted with satisfaction that the fire in their eyes had gone out. The pain from their wounds reduced them to their pathetic human forms. It wasn't enough. They'd gone too far. He'd deal with them. He'd deal with the females, and then he would have what belonged to him. Finally it would be his.


	21. The Bonds They Share

Stiles watched the fight between the werewolves in mute horror. Derek crushed Scott's leg, threw him across the room. Stiles took a step toward his fallen friend. He kept his eyes on the monstrous wolf, tried to circle around. The Alpha caught Jackson's arm in its jaws, blood sprayed everywhere. Stiles thought he was going to be sick. The noise Jackson made was inhuman. Stiles had never seen so much red. It mixed with the water on the floor, spread slowly through the warehouse. It was like a horrifying tide controlled by the blood red moons that Derek's eyes had become.

"Stop!" Stiles yelled, but it didn't matter. His voice was nothing compared to the sounds of Scott and Jackson's bones snapping as they hit the wall.

Derek didn't even react to him, kept stalking towards his friends. They were his pack members, but Derek didn't seem to recognize them anymore. Stiles didn't know what to do. He couldn't fight Derek, couldn't beat him down or make him back off. It didn't matter what the score of their game was. Stiles was still just a person. Derek was something more. He couldn't babble Derek into submission.

The Alpha took a step towards Scott and Jackson's prone bodies.

Stiles saw Allison on the far side of the room. She looked like she was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear. It was one thing to fight with Derek in his human form, or to face Peter in his Alpha form when she had the security of her bow in her hands. It was quite another to be alone and unarmed. She wasn't watching Scott fight valiantly, overcoming a foe trying to protect her with the help of his friends. She was watching the person she loved get torn to pieces. It broke Stiles's heart.

The Alpha took another step, dropped down on all fours. It let out another thunderous howl.

He looked over at Lydia. She was paler than normal, her lips moved soundlessly. Derek had become the very thing that nearly tore Lydia to pieces. She was trembling. Stiles had no idea what she was whispering to herself, but it didn't matter. The look of raving mad fear in her eyes would never leave Stiles. He was going to live with it for the rest of his life. Lydia would be worse off—she was actually experiencing the terror—Stiles was only seeing it from the outside.

The Alpha got closer to the fallen werewolves. Time felt like it was slowing down.

Stiles looked at Jackson. His head lulled uselessly to the side. His left arm was grizzly, clearly dislocated. There were pieces of bone poking through the muscle where Derek's jaws had scythed through the flesh. Stiles hoped he wasn't conscious, wished for that small mercy. If Jackson had been awake he'd have been screaming in mindless agony.

The Alpha stopped his advanced, sniffed the air. He assessed the state of his victims. Derek was a much wiser Alpha than Peter had been. In a way it was more terrifying. Derek's calculating advance was more purposeful, more deliberate than Peter's consuming rage had been.

Stiles locked eyes with Scott. His best friend was clutching the leg the Alpha had mangled. Unlike Jackson the damage wasn't obvious, but it was only slightly less severe. Stiles had to do something. They looked at each other and time slowed down even further—it was like bullet time in movies—except it wasn't awesome. Stiles had never wanted to be in a moment like that.

Stiles tried to use special best friend telepathy, the connection that two people had sometimes where they could communicate things without voicing them. People who were really close like Scott and Stiles had it, because the bond they had surpassed silly things like words. There hadn't been words created to truly describe those moments where two people really got each other.

Stiles tried to use it to tell Scott to take care of his dad, to make sure that he ate right and that he didn't work too hard. He tried to tell Scott to put flowers on his mother's grave on her birthdays from now on without him. Stiles tried to make his best friend understand what he was going to do and why.

Scott's eyes got wide, wider than Stiles had ever seen them. Scott shook his head desperately, forced himself to his feet. He fell when his mangled leg gave out with a sickening crack. Stiles knew there was visible bone, even if he couldn't see it from where he stood. Scott didn't even make a noise. He stared at Stiles, eyes wide and desperate. Scott shook his head, pointed towards the door.

Scott wanted to protect him, wanted him to run. Stiles couldn't heal the way Scott could. He was just a human. Stiles shook his head. Scott couldn't protect everyone all the time. Stiles had told him that, now he had to prove it.

There were so many people that loved Scott. He had his mother, Allison, probably Jackson too, probably more the way Allison did than Scott's mom did. There were so many people who cared about him. There was his boss at the veterinary hospital, and everyone who cheered for him on the lacrosse team. Scott was special, more special than he realized himself.

Stiles only had his dad. His dad knew what it meant to sacrifice—to do things you needed to do—especially if it meant protecting the people you loved. It was Stiles's turn to be Batman.

Stiles loved Scott. He didn't want to see him in pain. He wanted to see Scott laugh, wanted to see him smile. Stiles wouldn't watch the Alpha tear Scott apart, he wasn't that kind of person. Stiles would never forgive himself if he didn't do everything he could to protect his friends.

Time went back to normal. Stiles did the only thing he could think to do. He ran right for the Alpha's back and leapt onto him. Merry and Pippin would have been so damn proud. Alpha Derek was so much scarier than a stupid cave troll. Stiles didn't even have a sword.

The Alpha reacted with predictable ferocity at the sudden impact. Stiles yelled out in pain. Claws dug into his side, yanked him off the wolf's back. Derek tossed him away. Stiles flew through the air in a nauseating spiral. He slammed into the ground only a few feet away, breath rushed out of his lungs at the impact.

Warm blood spread out from the wound in his side. It stained his white outfit red. It ran over the glowing blue paint on his clothes. He deliriously thought it made the paint turn purple, but then he remembered that there was already purple there.

The monstrous thing coming after him wasn't what Derek was supposed to be. Derek was supposed to scowl at them. He was supposed to yell and threaten and shake his fists. He was supposed to hold Stiles up against walls, snarl in his face, and frown at everything. He was supposed to tell Stiles to be quiet, to threaten him, to pull on his ear when he didn't listen.

Derek was supposed to break DVDs and hit people with wooden spoons. He was supposed to need Stiles to give him a hug at night when he was afraid. He was supposed to steal Stile's covers and not let him sleep in.

Derek wasn't supposed to really hurt people. He wasn't supposed to be a monster that tore Jackson and Scott to pieces. He wasn't supposed to make Allison and Lydia cry. Derek was supposed to hug Stiles, hold him, and listen to him when something was wrong. He was supposed to put Stiles's mom's picture by him and make sure that the sea shells he'd found were safe.

Derek wasn't supposed to dig his claws into Stiles. Wasn't supposed to stalk towards him, or look like he was going to rip Stiles's throat out. Derek was supposed to tell him to wear sun screen, to put it on when Stiles couldn't do it himself. Derek was supposed to do that because Derek was supposed to be watching out for them, not trying to hurt them. They were all supposed to be one group, one pack. There weren't supposed to be any token humans. That's what Derek had told him. Derek was supposed to believe that too.

The Alpha got closer. Stiles couldn't see Derek in the Alpha's crimson eyes. Stiles missed the blue, missed it so bad that the pain in his side was hollow and meaningless. It didn't compare to the emptiness crashing down on him.

Derek reared up on his hind legs. Stiles knew he wasn't going to make it. The monster that had taken over Derek—who'd stolen his mind—was going to kill him. He hoped the shock of it would knock Derek out of whatever the hell was wrong with him. He closed his eyes. He waited for the crushing pain to descend on him.

He heard splashing in the water. Someone had gotten between him and the Alpha. He shook his head. Stiles didn't want anyone else to get hurt. He wanted to get up, to knock them out of the way. He couldn't move. The floor of the warehouse was cold, soaked in water and blood. Stiles hated the cold. He wanted it to be warm. He wanted them all to be back at the beach house playing games. He didn't want most of his pack bleeding on the floor of a shady warehouse.

"Stop!" Lydia's voice rang clear and true through the empty warehouse.

Stiles opened his eyes. Lydia was standing between him and the Alpha. Her arms outstretched, she was using her body as a shield. She wasn't shaking with fear anymore. She locked gazes with the Alpha, stared right into its furious red eyes. She'd gone bat shit insane.

"You're supposed to take care of him!" Lydia screamed the words like an accusation, like she was trying to cut him with her voice. "You're hurting him!"

The Alpha went down on all fours again. He tilted his head as he looked at Lydia. Stiles's mouth fell open in shock. She was standing up to him. She was showing him that she wasn't afraid. Lydia was trying to take the place of Alpha female in the pack.

She was more brilliant than Stiles ever would have given her credit for. After what she'd gone through with Peter, he wouldn't have thought she'd ever stand face to face with another Alpha. She'd almost died, that experience had worked some sort of strange alchemy on who she was. She had faced the fury of an Alpha before. Not at the head a victorious force, but as its victim. She had suffered and survived. She knew that she was strong enough.

Stiles sucked a ragged breath into his lungs. The Alpha sniffed at her and then looked back at Stiles, glowing red eyes flickered. Their fury dimmed. The Alpha tried to step around her. Lydia moved in front of him again.

"You know he loved me first." Lydia kept her arms outstretched, kept her head high. She'd given countless commands through her life. She was used to being obeyed. It gave her a strength and confidence that none of the rest of the pack had. She was a force of nature all on her own.

The Alpha gazed at her, sniffed the air. Lydia didn't balk. She didn't waver. She stood her ground.

"If you are going to take him from me then you have to prove that you can take care of him," she said.

Stiles was terrified. He'd seen a different Alpha attack her, had watched her blood spill down her body. He couldn't watch it again. She gambled with her life. Stiles wasn't worth stakes like that.

"Derek, please don't do this," he whispered. "You're supposed to be the one who takes care of us, all of us. You said we were a pack."

The Alpha nodded at Lydia. Red eyes faded away. Derek acknowledged her, accepted her as the Alpha female. Stiles didn't know how he knew, but he was sure. For just a moment Stiles thought he saw a flicker of purple light in the giant wolf's eyes.

The giant beast vibrated in place, shrunk in on itself. The monstrous wolf's muzzle disappeared, left Derek's human face in it's place. Sharp claws were replaced by human fingernails. It seemed like it took forever for Derek to look human again, to look like he was supposed to. He looked at Stiles. Time seemed to freeze again, either that or Stiles was about to lose consciousness. He wasn't sure, couldn't think through the pain.

Derek rushed forward. He wrapped one arm under Stiles's body. He used his other hand to apply pressure to the wound in Stiles's side. It was the kind of thing Derek was supposed to do. Derek was acting how he was supposed to act. He held Stiles, warmed him with his body heat. The fact that Derek was naked and wet from the sprinklers pouring down on them wasn't half bad either. Stiles grinned for a moment before he passed out.


	22. Licking the Wounds

Derek stepped carefully up the stairs. Stiles held onto his back, his legs wrapped around Derek's waist. It had been a long night. Stiles was doped up on pain meds and babbling against Derek's neck. Warm breath ghosted over the sensitive skin behind his ear. Derek had no idea what they had told the medical staff happened to cause the long, but relatively shallow gouges on Stiles's side.

No one but Stiles seemed to be happy with him, and he attributed Stiles's attitude to the drugs. Everyone else had only barely figured out what had even happened in the first place. Scott more than the others was against letting Derek take Stiles to their room. Scott had every right to be mad, and part of him thought that the young beta was right. Stiles wasn't safe around Derek, he'd proven that tonight.

Lydia had intimidated Scott into submission when Stiles decided he wanted to go back to the house with Derek; she'd taken charge in the wake of the chaos they'd all been through. She wasn't the pack leader, but she was a kind of surrogate alpha female, the strongest of the female members of the pack. Subconsciously, Scott and Jackson began to defer to her after she had stood her ground against him. She was a natural leader. He was thankful for what she'd done in standing up to him. Derek wasn't sure what he would have done if she hadn't intervened. His fingers tightened incrementally on the underside of Stiles's thighs where he was holding him. Stiles's arms clutched more tightly around his shoulders in response.

Derek turned the corner at the top of the stairs and headed down the hall to their room. Careful of Stiles's bandaged side and hands, he made his way across the floor to his bed against the wall under the window. He turned and tried to get Stiles to let go and sink down onto the bed. Stiles didn't do that.

"Hey, we're here." Derek patted Stiles's legs.

"Awesome." Stiles buried his head in Derek's neck.

"That means you need to let go."

Stiles made a sound that could only be interpreted as a denial. Derek sighed.

"You need to get some sleep; you went through a lot tonight."

"If I let go you'll leave."

Too perceptive, Stiles was just too damn perceptive for his own good.

"I'm dangerous," Derek said, "it's the only way you'll be safe."

"No."

Derek sighed again. Stiles didn't let go. He gently tried to shake the teenager off him, but despite having been through the ordeal he had, he clung to Derek with a desperate kind of strength. Derek wasn't sure what to do. It was similar to when Stiles wouldn't let go of his covers when Derek tried to get him out of his bloody clothes the night he had broken down and screamed at everyone. The only difference was now he was clutching Derek instead.

"Will you let go and get in the bed if I promise not to leave tonight?"

Stiles made a little mumbling sound, like he was carefully thinking it over in his drug addled brain.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

Stiles released his arms and flopped back onto the bed. Derek stretched and flexed his arms and shoulders. Stiles had practically cut off his circulation. Derek turned to look at the bed. Stiles futilely pawed at the covers, confused as to why they weren't over him. It was sort of sad and adorable all at the same time.

Derek smirked to himself. Adorable wasn't the type of adjective he normally used, but Stiles was an exception. Stiles was the exception to a lot of things. After watching him struggle for a few moments Derek helped him get settled. He was incredibly thankful that Stiles had left the hospital in black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt Jackson had bought for him while he was getting stitched up. Derek had no desire to repeat the process of battling a rabid wolverine again to get him into clean clothes. That had been a damn nightmare.

Derek turned to head towards the other bed. He needed to get sleep himself. He was shocked when Stiles's hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"You said you weren't going to leave."

Derek thought Stiles almost sounded lucid. He turned to look back; chocolate brown eyes gazed at him steadily. Derek thought he could lose himself there, not the way that he had lost himself to the Alpha. He could lose himself in a simpler way, a better way. He wasn't sure exactly how or when it had happened. Maybe it was the first night they spent together in the room, maybe it was before that, but at some point, he had started to like Stiles. It hadn't been a powerful and sweeping thing that covered him before he knew he was under the water. That was the way Allison and Scott had found each other.

He wasn't forced into it, didn't feel obligated to do it the way that perhaps Lydia and Jackson had first gotten together. It wasn't expected of him, it wasn't what people thought was right or what made the most sense. People would probably think it was wrong. Stiles was younger than he was, it wouldn't matter in another couple of years, maybe less, but right now the difference was important.

It was one little thing, another after that, and more until it was overcoming him before he could fight it off. He had tried, he had tried very hard, and he had almost killed members of his pack because he had tried so hard.

It had caught him unaware, crept up on him; it wasn't a fire in his gut that made him need the teenager who was watching him. Those brown eyes were steady, cataloging what they could see in Derek's face. It had been a slow burn, heat rising steadily. Stiles wasn't his whole life. Derek still had his own things going on. It wasn't like making Stiles happy was the only thing he thought about, but Stiles was fascinating; he had never met anyone like him before.

Stiles reached out a hand imploringly and Derek took it. Stiles raised the covers and pulled him forward. The werewolf slipped underneath them, laying down on his side and facing the teenager who wouldn't break eye contact with him despite having seen what the monster in Derek was capable of. Stiles draped the covers over the two of them and burrowed into Derek's chest, nuzzled up against him. He clung to Derek almost as though he was trying to make sure Derek wasn't going to leave in the middle of the night.

Derek wasn't sure if Stiles felt the same way that he did; he was the kind of person who would do whatever he could to make someone else feel better. Maybe Derek was misinterpreting the actions, maybe Stiles was just winging it. Maybe he wasn't sure what he was doing because of the pain killers.

Derek placed a small kiss on the top of Stiles's head, stroked his arms and shoulders the way Stiles had comforted him on that first night. Derek didn't know what they were to each other yet or where they were going. He wasn't sure if he was falling in love with Stiles or if it was something else, but he did want to give Stiles everything, just to see what he would do with it, just to see what Stiles could make out of it.


	23. Derek's Secret Weapon

"Get up!"

A little bee buzzed around Derek, tried to sting at his chest and legs. He swatted it negligently. It grunted and fell away at the impact.

"No." He tried to say it in his authoritative pack leader voice.

"Get up!"

The persistent little buzzing picked at the edges of his consciousness, tried to get him to pay attention to it. He rolled over onto his stomach, one arm trapping the fluttering bee between his body and the bed. It poked him again in the side. The bee was very resilient.

"Sleep," he told the bee. He didn't want to scare the bee away; he just wanted it to stop buzzing.

Little stingers latched onto his upper arm. Bees weren't supposed to have so many wet little pointy things. Derek pulled it closer to him, pinned more of its buzzing body to the bed. Breath rushed out of the bee in surprise.

Something wet hit his neck, it was hot and slick. It trailed up to his earlobe and stung him again.

"Get up!" Hot wind from the little bee's wings fluttered against his ear.

"No honey…" He didn't have the honey the bee wanted, he tried to make it clear so it would go back to sleep.

There was a startled gasp, the bee went very still. Maybe it had given up, maybe it was confused because bees didn't seek out honey themselves, how was he supposed to know, he wasn't even sure what he was saying. At least it stopped buzzing momentarily.

"I-I don't even know what that means!"

Derek sighed, it wasn't time to explain, it was time to rest, it was time to share warmth and be close. It was not the time for stinging and buzzing. He turned his head against the bee and put his teeth on its warm neck, sucked the skin into his mouth and ran his tongue along the flesh. The bee made a soft noise, but it wasn't buzzing, it was raw and needy sounding. The bee traced its wings along his side looking for something.

"I don't have it," Derek told the bee.

"W-what?" the bee asked him, its buzzing took on a higher pitch.

"No more questions!" He just wanted the bee to quit its buzzing. Why wouldn't it stop tormenting him?

"You aren't the boss of me," the bee obstinately protested.

If the bee would not quit its buzzing, if it wouldn't quit poking and stinging, Derek would have to do the only thing he could do. He'd been given no choice. He released the bee and rolled away onto his side facing away from it. He knew that if he ignored the bee long enough it would find something shiny to amuse it, a new flower to poke and prod.

Derek sighed, suddenly confused because he just thought of himself as a flower. That didn't make any sense. He was not a flower, he was… other stuff. He growled out a soft warning when the bed dipped behind him. The bee was planning something, something no doubt crafty and intended to annoy him.

The blankets shifted up as though the bee was rising up into the air. It didn't matter. Derek was more than a match for the little thing. He rolled onto his back again to swat it down but missed. A heavy weight crashed down over his stomach. He grunted at the impact, but it didn't hurt. He was made of sterner stuff than a flower was.

Ten little stingers attacked his ribs and sides, got under his shirt and tried to get him to react. He was not amused. He snatched the bee's wings and pulled it forward. It crashed down on his chest and made a shocked sound. Something hard pressed into his stomach; he could feel its heat through the bee's skin… or its clothes, he was still too tired to think clearly.

"S-sorry… it's you know… morning stuff," the bee tried to explain, its buzzing sounded embarrassed.

Derek took a deep breath, sucked in the scent of something delicious that filled the air. The bee had honey. He rumbled softly, low in his chest. The bee trembled on top of him, grinding a little bit into his stomach.

"G-get up…" the bee tried again, only it sounded like maybe it didn't want to leave the bed.

Clearly the bee could not be reasoned with, could not be persuaded to leave him in peace. He would have to deal with it, exhaust it, and cause it to expend all that nervous fluttering energy. Derek would use his secret weapon. He was not normally someone who could be pushed into doing something; the bee would have to learn its place. He flexed his fingers around the bee's wrists… or wings, or whatever…

As though sensing something was about to happen, the bee on top of him leaned down. Derek didn't stop it, wanted to see what was going to happen. Well… he would feel what was going to happen; he had decided he wasn't going to open his eyes, just to annoy the fluttering creature on top of him.

Warm soft lips brushed against Derek's. He froze, shocked at the suddenness of it. He hadn't been expecting that. Another grinding of hard heat against his stomach came with it. A curious tongue licked against his mouth, testing, seeking something. Derek opened his mouth and the tongue got inside, darted around tasting, a wet moan from the throat above him made his cock strain. It had gotten interested when the bee had landed on him, now it was very interested.

"Please… get up." The words were whispered against his lips, directly into his mouth. "I have a lot of plans for today..."

Derek rolled over so he was on top, opened his eyes and looked down at Stiles. His ears were red. Careful of Stiles's wounded side, Derek brought his weight down slightly, rubbed his stomach against the hard length pulsing against him. Stiles made a hissing sound and bit his lower lip, grinding up into Derek's abdomen.

Derek pulled Stiles's shirt up, bunched it up under his neck, trapped his arms with it, and trailed wet kisses across his chest. He licked one of the hard pink nipples. The body underneath him trembled, bucked up again. He nibbled at hardening nub then switched to the other. He took his time, enjoyed the taste, drinking in the sounds that Stiles was making. He was careful of the bandages, never putting any weight on them. He licked and nipped at Stiles's chest, loved the sound and the smell of him, loved his skin that was still warm from sleep, loved that his own scent lingered on Stiles from sleeping together.

"Derek…"

"Five more minutes," Derek said as he bit one of the pink little nubs. He licked it soothingly, but Derek knew something that this persistent little bee did not. He knew that in order to fully utilize his secret weapon, he would need far more than five minutes.


	24. Howl it Out

Stiles wasn't sure exactly how he'd gotten on the path that ended with him in bed with Derek. He'd known that he was growing fonder of Derek, thought maybe they were becoming friends, but faster than he would have thought possible he started wanting more. When the trip had started out Stiles was somewhat afraid of Derek, but after that first night he had started to revise his opinion, started to see why Derek did the things he did. After Derek had held him down and let him cry out everything inside of him Stiles felt closer to him than he had ever felt to anyone. It was intimate in a way that couldn't be described to someone who hadn't been pulled back from the brink of self destruction.

Then he'd experienced Derek's strong hands on the beach. What he thought was a friendly closeness turned into something else. Derek had been so close to him, leaning over him, but not touching with anything but his hands, and it was like when Derek had held him but it was more at the same time. Derek's fingers on his muscles, the lotion sliding over his skin, it had started heat rising in Stiles's skin, made him feel fevered and drunk.

Finally, in the warehouse, when he saw the physical manifestation of Derek's pain, when he saw what Derek had to fight with every single day of his life Stiles realized he wanted more. He wanted to be the one to help Derek with it, to be there at night and rub his black hair and hold him. He wanted to make sure Derek knew there were people who cared about him.

He wanted to touch Derek's skin and whisper into his ear while they were in bed together, to tell Derek all his secrets. He wanted Derek to tell him his secrets too. The things he wanted, the things he was afraid of, and all the little things that people normally kept to themselves because they were scared that no one would understand or that they would be laughed at.

"Are you ok?"

Stiles blinked, realized he must have spaced out and lost himself in Derek's teasing touches, in his wet kisses and warm skin. He hoped Derek didn't get the wrong idea. It was exactly what he wanted. He looked into Derek's green eyes. They were so beautiful with no red lurking at the edges.

Derek's forehead was creased with worry, like he was fighting against something. Before Stiles had got lost in his head Derek had been all over him, wet heat everywhere. Now he looked like he was thinking about getting out of the bed and running. Running and not looking back.

"This is what I want," Stiles whispered into the space between them.

Derek hesitated. Stiles saw something in his eyes, but he couldn't name it, felt it settle into a hollow pit in his stomach that he hadn't known was there. He thought that he was just on the edge of figuring out what it was, but then Derek's mouth closed over his skin again and his thoughts shattered under Derek's touches. Long wet licks and little bites danced over his skin. He quickly lost his sense of time as Derek pulled gasps and tiny moans out of his chest.

"Derek…" Stiles pleaded, grinding his hips up into the body lying on top of him. He was barely hanging on to the edges of consciousness. Derek had lobotomized him with his tongue, tore away all the parts of his brain that didn't directly report how much his skin wanted more of Derek's touch. Other than Derek's name, Stiles couldn't say anything, he could only mewl out his pleasure, curl his toes, and bite his own lips trying not to lose himself in strong hands and a sinfully hot mouth.

The worst part of it, the absolute worse part, was that all Derek was doing was licking his nipples. Stiles didn't even know his nipples could do that for him, get him that worked up. He was seriously reconsidering how much time he had wasted focusing on his dick when his nipples could have been giving him a gnawing hunger for more. He felt like he was set adrift, floating through an endless sea of heat, little sharp bites, and stroking wet muscle. He hoped no one ever found him; he wanted to stay lost in that place forever.

"Derek…" Stiles tried again. All he got for his trouble was a needy growling that made his dick harder and more of Derek's possessive hands stroking across his uninjured side and arms. Derek was ignoring what Stiles was saying and feasting on him. Stiles soaked in that focus, how Derek took deep breaths from right against his skin, like he was somehow the most delicious thing Derek had ever encountered. A nip against his belly as Derek finally abandoned his abused nipples convinced him that he was going to be covered in little teeth marks. The thought sent his brain into overdrive and he brought his bandaged hands down to try to touch himself, to get his hands into his black sweatpants.

Derek growled and slapped his hands away gently but firmly. Stiles trembled under Derek's body, wondered if anyone had ever done any tests to see how long someone could ride the edge of pleasure, how long they could cling to it with their teeth and hold on before crashing down and releasing all that pent up tension. If there were people who did those sorts of tests, Stiles was going to be damned sure they never learned about Derek's particular talents.

"Please," Stiles said, but wasn't even sure what he was begging for. He just knew that he needed something and that Derek could give it to him. Whenever he spoke Derek's body vibrated slightly, like Stiles's voice had some sort of impact on him.

Stiles opened his eyes and looked down across the expanse of his own skin. Skin Derek had reddened with a talented mouth and merciless teeth. Derek was looking back at him; actually Derek was looking at his lips. Stiles dropped his mouth open slightly and flicked his tongue over his bottom lip experimentally; eyes steady on Derek's as he did it.

It was surreal how Stiles thought he could actually see Derek's eyes dilate with want, green eyes momentarily glittered purple again in the early morning light streaming in from the window. Rays of light between the two of them were visible, little brilliant hurdles that Derek would have to cross to get to Stiles's mouth. He bit his lower lip, pulling it slightly into his mouth and made a needy noise deep in his throat to see what Derek would do.

Derek shattered those hurdles of light, lunged forward to capture Stiles's lips. Derek's mouth was the hottest most delicious thing Stiles had ever tasted. Derek's tongue licked against his lips, tried to get inside Stiles's mouth and find out what secrets were there. Stiles groaned into Derek's mouth, ran his hands that were still a little sore through Derek's hair but the pain didn't matter, the thing they were caught up in was all that Stiles cared about.

Derek released his lips. Stiles sucked in a ragged breath, his body trembled as Derek trailed kisses back down his chest, little bites reminding his nipples that Derek had not forgotten about them, little teasing licks and Derek's mouth soothing them before traveling further down.

"Oh god…" Stiles's voice was weak, sounded strained in his ears. He couldn't help it; Derek went down between his legs, inhaled his scent and nuzzled into his hard cock, mouthed it through his sweatpants. Stiles tugged on Derek's hair. Rumbling growls vibrated through Stiles's body as Derek mouthed him through the cotton.

Slowly, too damned slowly, Derek pulled Stiles's sweatpants off and his dick sprang free. It twitched in the cool air. Stiles made a strangled sound at the look on Derek's face. His eyes were blown open even further, lust seemed like it was dripping from his lips as Derek licked them in anticipation.

"Derek, please…" Stiles whispered.

Derek's mouth finally closed over the head of Stiles's cock, his body seized up, and his fingers tightened in Derek's hair. Stiles had thought Derek had been destroying him with his mouth when it was on his nipples, now he realized that Derek was just trying to prepare him for the tight sucking heat, like he was trying to pull Stiles's sanity out through his dick. Derek was doing a good job of it.

Stiles tried to thrust his hips up, but Derek pinned them to the bed, stroked them soothingly as his mouth and throat worked maddeningly around his cock. Stiles babbled incoherently, didn't think he was even saying words, just a stream of mewling whimpers and hitched breaths.

Derek released him from his mouth. Stiles groaned out his disapproval. Derek was a mean wolf. He tried to say it out loud but before he could the hot miracle of Derek's mouth came down over his balls. Derek lapped against them, hot tongue snaking out to taste while stroking Stiles's cock expertly with one hand. The grip had the right amount of force, just on the cusp of too tight. Stiles let go of Derek's hair and grabbed the covers underneath him, twisted them in his hands, tried to focus, tried to remember how to breathe.

Derek made a greedy sounding noise. Stiles looked down and he would never forget what he saw, no matter whatever else happened in his life he wanted to keep the memory fresh, revisit it at every opportunity. The tip of his dick was wet, glistened in the light from the window. Derek climbed up his body, focused on that point. Derek descended on it. Stiles blinked and regretted it because he missed a single moment. Derek's tongue darted out against the tip of Stiles's dick, made a deep satisfied noise that set Stiles's brain on fire. He lapped at the head, licked into tiny slit like he was trying to get more.

Stiles let his head fall back, closed his eyes and howled out his pleasure. He'd wanted to be quiet, but no one could be quiet with Derek trying to lick into them. Derek didn't get what he wanted fast enough, increased the pressure he was using. Stiles would have laughed when he thought that Derek had just been messing around and not really trying, but he couldn't. His throat was tight and his teeth trapped his lips, all he could do was gasp and thrust up.

Derek let him, swallowed him down and the noises he made drove little spikes of pleasure right through Stiles's spine, left him shaking and wanting because it was too good, too much. Stiles tried to cling to self control with everything he had, but Derek was insistent on getting what he wanted, from pulling it out of Stiles's trembling body.

Stiles lost his grip on his discipline, lost his grip on his sanity, lost his grip on the whole damn world. He panted Derek's name as the pleasure came rushing out of him. Derek's mouth and throat kept working on him. Stiles bit his own hand, tried to stop the noises he made, tried to ground himself in something other than the mind splitting insanity of Derek's mouth.

Stiles gasped in relief when Derek finally released him from his mouth. He twitched when Derek lapped at the tip of his dick again, as if he were trying to make sure he'd gotten everything he wanted, to make sure Stiles's wasn't hiding anything from him. Stiles wanted to say something, to tell Derek how awesome he was, but he just couldn't think of anything.

"Derek," he whispered. He wanted to do something for the werewolf too, to make him feel good.

Derek pulled the covers up and wrapped them around Stiles. He wanted to protest that Derek hadn't gotten anything, but Derek just smirked at him. Stiles sort of wanted to punch him in the face before commencing to worship his godlike body. Derek shook his head, stroked Stiles's hair and placed a small kiss on his lips.

"Just rest for now," Derek said.

Stiles wanted to remind Derek that of the two of them, only one was the boss of him, but he couldn't remember which one of them that was, and his eyelids were just too damn heavy.


	25. Pancake MURDERER!

When Stiles had gotten out of the shower he was surprised to find the room empty. He thought Derek had gone downstairs to get some food. Stiles grabbed clothes out of his dresser as he ran his eyes over the room. It wasn't particularly easy to apply the water resistant bandages the hospital had given him along with strict orders to change the wrappings and apply antibiotic cream to the scratches. He pouted a little bit. He'd wanted to get dirty again so that Derek would have to take him into the shower and clean him up.

He adjusted himself slightly and tried to think of less sexy things. The only problem with that was that Derek hadn't left him with any normal thoughts; he'd taken them all and left only sex memories, and they hadn't even had like real full on virginity taking sex yet. There was no way he was going to be able to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.

His stomach made a loud sound of protest and he looked down at it with a stunned expression. He hated being wrong, apparently he could focus on something else. He patted his stomach consolingly and promised that he'd get it filled up soon. It grumbled again and he narrowed his eyes at it, thinking it was messing with him. He blinked as he pulled on a pair of jeans and cast his eyes around the room again. There was something… off. He couldn't figure out what it was though.

He pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed a pair of socks as he walked out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs, he nearly fell trying to put them on as he went. As soon as he left his room he smelled the pungent odor of pancakes being burned alive. He imagined he could hear them screaming in agony. He frowned; he would bet a hundred dollars Scott was murdering that delicious batter in an ill fated attempt to make breakfast. He had to save them before Scott destroyed them all, laid waste to what should be golden brown avatars of deliciousness. As he got to the top of the stairs he heard voices from down below and paused momentarily.

"This is ridiculous," Scott yelled, "why aren't there any directions?"

"They're right here, McCall," Jackson told him, "You're just blind."

"Baby maybe you should let me do this?" Allison was always the voice of reason. Stiles grinned as he imagined the drama taking place downstairs in the kitchen. He started to take a step down when he heard Lydia's voice.

"I'm just glad we're all here to be able to fail at making pancakes. Why are we doing this again?" Lydia sounded annoyed. Stiles chuckled. Lydia was amazing. He had always known that but he knew with more certainty than ever before after the last few days. She was one of a kind.

"Don't get me started on Derek," Scott warned, "he almost killed Stiles."

"Don't be a hypocrite, Scott. We all know you tried to kill Stiles too. At one point you tried to kill us all," Lydia said.

Stiles pumped his fist in the air, Lydia was so right. The only reason Scott hadn't killed him in the locker room was because Stiles was a crack shot with a fire extinguisher.

"That was different," Scott mumbled quietly enough that Stiles almost hadn't heard it over the crying out of the pancakes as they were no doubt being burned to ash in the skillet.

"You know what, I don't even care that he almost tore my arm off, I'm just pissed about all the other stuff," Jackson said.

There was an awkward silence and Stiles wondered what they were talking about.

"Yeah thanks to Derek Scott and Jackson almost broke the hot tub." Lydia said.

"Thanks to Derek, I know what Jackson's dick feels like."

Stiles blinked… and mouthed 'what the fuck'.

"Thanks to Derek, I know what Scott's semen tastes like…"

Stiles almost swallowed his tongue, Jackson… and Scott? They had banged each other? He had been so right! On some level he had already known about Jackson, the guy was too pretty to only like girls, plus Stiles knew for a fact that he liked to look at himself in the mirrors in the locker room.

"Can we not bring that up ever again," Allison said. She sounded simultaneously upset and as though she was about to start laughing. "I just want to forget Derek ever… did whatever it was to them."

"Thanks to Derek I know what Stiles's sex voice sounds like," Scott said.

The statement was followed by a little hiccupping choked off noise. It was still just as adorable as the first time Stiles had heard it on the day they left for the resort. He hadn't forgotten that he was going to heckle Scott about it. The opportunity simply hadn't presented itself yet.

"You don't need to thank Derek for that; I think Stiles is always talking in his sex voice." Allison told the group.

Stiles wasn't sure if that was rude or not, but it put a goofy smile on his face. He kept walking down the stairs, stepping lightly and walking a little gingerly because of the wounds in his side, they itched really badly and he wanted to scratch at them. The doctor had repeated several times, very slowly, that was something he wasn't supposed to do.

"Thanks to Derek I ruined one of my favorite pairs of shoes with water damage." Lydia said. She sounded as though she clearly thought that it was the most important grievance.

"Thanks to Derek I'm going to be walking funny for the next few days," Stiles said as he walked into the kitchen.

Scott dropped the spatula he had been using to torture the pancakes on the ground. Stiles was so not cleaning that up. Jackson looked like he was torn between asking a question and having a seizure. Allison giggled and Lydia arched an eyebrow at him. Most of them looked like they had a little bit of pink in their cheeks.

"Cause of the scratches," Stile explained. He lifted his shirt and pointed at the bandages on his side.

"Not because of those bite marks?" Lydia's grin was so much wider than the Cheshire Cat's had ever been.

Stiles was sure his face was not turning red and dropped his shirt with great dignity. Scott looked like someone had kicked his favorite puppy right before his eyes. Jackson looked like he wanted to ask a question still, but snapped his teeth closed. Allison winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up.

"I don't know what you mean." Stiles told them.

"Whatever, Derek is hot enough that most people would hit that like the Fist of God." Lydia said conversationally.

Everyone in the room coughed and looked away from each other. Without making eye contact with anyone Stiles moved up and pushed Scott out of the way to assess the damage of the apocalypse that had taken place on the stove. He grimaced and with a solemn heart and a whispered promise of vengeance buried the dead pancakes in the trash can.

"Scott, clean up the spatula. I'll do what I can to save the rest of your victims, let's all hope I'm not too late."

Everyone laughed and Stiles smiled to himself as he got to the business of making the pancakes after Scott handed him the clean spatula back. After a few minutes everything was coming along nicely and he started to wonder what Derek wanted on his pancakes. Stiles hoped it was strawberries; Stiles also hoped that Derek would want to eat the pancakes off of his skin and then make sure he got all the syrup off. He knew that Derek would be meticulous about it. He grinned to himself. Somehow he'd gone from not thinking about sex any more than the average teenage guy; to being so sex focused he couldn't even make breakfast without it flitting through his thoughts.

That's when everything fell apart; Scott asked him a question that froze his spine. "When's Derek coming down?"

Stiles realized what had been wrong with the room upstairs. The spatula dropped to the floor of the kitchen again and this time Stiles didn't care what was going to happen to the pancakes. Derek suitcase hadn't been in their room when Stiles was getting dressed.


	26. Learn How to Say It

Scott was very quiet when he walked out the front door. He wanted to yell at Derek, wanted to find him so that he could kick the dude's teeth through his skull. Twice now he had hurt Stiles and it made him so angry he wanted to howl loud enough that Derek would hear it and know that Scott was going to tear his throat out. He had something more important to do first though. Derek would have to wait.

Stiles sat on the swinging bench on the opposite side of the porch from the hammock. It looked like he was typing on his phone. Scott didn't say anything at first; he just went and sat down next to his friend. After a few moments Stiles locked his phone and put it in the pocket of his jeans. Stiles's leg was bouncing up and down nervously. Scott didn't know what to do; he was terrible at this kind of thing. The sky wasn't even fully lit up yet, the morning had barely started, and already things were beyond fucked up.

"Maybe he just went into town to get something?" Scott knew that wasn't the case, but he had to start somewhere. He glanced at Stiles out of the corner of his eyes.

"Why did he take his suitcase?" Stiles leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and hid his face in his hands.

"The van is still here, the keys are on the table next to the door." It wasn't much but it was something. Derek hadn't taken the van.

"Well at least he didn't strand us in addition to abandoning us." Stiles said. He started rocking back and forth in place.

Scott could hear the pain in Stiles's voice. He hadn't known what heartbreak smelled like. He wished he still didn't. Stiles stopped moving. Scott knew that was bad. That was really bad. Stiles was always moving, when he wasn't it meant that he was all up in his head, locked away from everyone else. Stiles took a shaky breath and Scott hated the air here at this beach, just like at the arcade there was something in it that was making Stiles's eyes water. He wanted to punch the air's face in too.

Awkwardly he reached an arm out and put it around Stiles's shoulders, turning his body a little so he wasn't at such a weird angle. He was shocked when Stiles leaned against him. Scott rubbed his hands across his eyes; the stupid air was getting to him again too. He felt helpless. Stiles was falling apart and he couldn't do anything, but offer a shoulder to cry on.

"What's wrong with me?" Stiles voice cracked as he asked the question, his body started trembling.

Scott blinked and looked down at his friend. Stiles's eyes were closed tight and he turned his face into Scott's shoulder, and started making pained snuffling sounds. He patted Stiles on the back and took a couple of breaths to collect his thoughts. He could only think of one thing to say.

"Derek's a dick," Scott said. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"He… we had…"

"I know."

"I think I'm falling in love with him."

Scott shifted slightly as one of Stiles hand caught hold of the front of his shirt and the shaking got worse. He patted Stiles's back again and looked out over the horizon. Where the hell was Derek? Scott was going to make him pay for having done this. He hadn't been very supportive of Stiles in the past, hadn't realized how he had almost ruined their friendship because of it. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. If Stiles wanted Derek, Scott was damn well going to make sure he got him. Scott would break both of his legs when he found him so that Derek couldn't run away again. He was a coward. He didn't deserve Stiles.

"Are you sure he's what you want?" Scott slowly adjusted how Stiles was clinging to him so he could stand up.

Stiles let go and looked up. His forehead furrowed in confusion. Scott grinned. If Stiles thought he was confused now, he wasn't going to know what to do with the curve ball Scott was going to throw him.

"I think so," Stiles said.

"No, you can't think. You have to know."

"I know that when I think about him it makes my stomach hurt like its empty and no matter what I put in it the hunger doesn't go away. I ate half a box of Lucky Charms less than ten minutes ago to test the theory."

Scott smacked Stiles in the head. He snuffled and gave Scott an offended look. Scott pulled him to his feet and stared at him until Stiles lifted his eyes to look him in the face. They stood staring at each other. It was like the moment in the warehouse. There was something passing between them.

"Do you want that hungry feeling to go away?" Scott wanted to know if Stiles was sure, if this was what he really wanted.

"Only if it means I got so much of Derek it makes my stomach hurt anyway," Stiles said.

Scott slapped him in the head again. Stiles made another offended face as he grunted in pain. Scott grinned at him and pulled him into a hug—not an awkward guy hug, but a full body embrace and held Stiles tightly. He waited until Stiles hugged him back before he continued.

"That means you're in love. My mom told me that you have to make sure the other person knows. She said that you need to say it, say it a million times if you have to, say it until you know that they know for sure and then say it again. Probably use tiny words though because Derek's an idiot."

Scott patted Stiles's back again when he heard Stiles snuffle into his shoulder. Stupid damn air, he put his eyes against his best friend's shoulder to help the stinging in them. Stiles gripped him tighter.

"I don't know where he is," Stiles said. He made a little hiccupping noise as the words came out.

Scott wanted to smack him again but it didn't seem like it was the right time. "Well you have a phone don't you?"

"Oh my god," Stiles said as he pulled away from Scott. There was something like fear in his eyes, but no fear scent in the air, just the salty smell of tears.

"What?" Scott tilted his head to the side. Had he misunderstood something?

"When did you become the smart one?" Stiles grinned, for the first time since he'd realized Derek was gone he almost seemed normal.

Scott frowned at his friend, realized it was the right time after all to wallop him again in a way that his mother would have been proud of.

"What?"

"Let's get Derek back." Scott said. He smacked Stiles in the head again.

Stiles opened his mouth like he was going to say something and then just let it close again instead. Scott grinned at him; they both knew that Stiles had deserved it. Stiles grinned back at him.

Scott had a plan, and despite what a lot of people thought about him, when he needed to he could be incredibly clever. Derek wasn't going to get away. Scott would drag him back by his teeth if he had to. Stiles deserved the best, but Derek would do for now.


	27. As Daylight Dies

Derek stood outside of the same toy store he'd been at the day Stiles had freaked out. He was unconsciously running the fingers of one hand over a seashell while the other held it carefully. His suitcase leaned against his legs. The bus didn't leave until later in the evening. He looked at the toy store and tried to swallow down regret. Stiles had felt abandoned, but Derek had come to the store and purchased several board games as well as a few party games. They were still in the bags in the back of the van at the beach house. He'd never gotten to show them to his pack. They were the kinds of games that his family used to play together. He thought Stiles would have liked them, which is why he left them with the van.

Stiles…

He closed his eyes at the memory, wanted it to go away. He didn't want to remember how Stiles had looked so warm, content, and trusting as he slept. Stiles deserved something better than what Derek could give him. He was too cold and too unfriendly. Part of Derek had died with his family; he was just half a person. Stiles should be with someone less damaged.

Derek couldn't shake away the memories from earlier in the morning. The smells, the sounds, and the feelings washed over him. Stiles finally getting into the shower, how he sat on the floor outside of the bathroom, leaning against the wall and hating himself for giving in to his desires. He'd planned to leave when he woke up, but he couldn't think with Stiles so close to him, couldn't think with warm hands running through his hair.

It would have been better if he hadn't done anything, but at least he hadn't let Stiles do anything to him. He was weak for giving in and taking what he wanted from Stiles, for giving in to his lust and instinct. He hoped that it was better that Stiles was taken care of, sated, maybe it would be a good memory. He smirked to himself, as if having someone taking advantage of you before leaving could possibly be turned into a good thing.

Derek carefully placed the seashell in his pocket. He felt bad about stealing it from Stiles, but he needed something. He pulled out his phone and opened the picture he had taken that morning. Stiles curled up in the blankets of the bed they'd shared. He was on his stomach, face turned towards the camera with a content smile on his face. The pale skin of his neck was visible at the edge of the covers, little red marks barely visible. He opened the menu to delete it, but his thumb hovered over the button, didn't press it right away.

He was startled when the phone buzzed. It was a text message notification from Stiles. He hesitated, unsure of what he should do, didn't know that he could face whatever it said. He steeled himself and opened the message; Stiles deserved the right to say whatever he needed to say.

'_pick me up a sausage biscuit while ur out k? extra cheese!'_

Derek blinked at the words. Had Stiles misunderstood what his leaving meant? Had he not noticed that Derek had taken his suitcase? His phone buzzed again. He looked at the next message and as he was looking another one came right after that. They were both from Stiles too.

'_Scott wants a bagel with cream cheese'_

'_and a good fucking apology for you breaking his leg. kthx'_

Derek shook his head. He put his phone away and grabbed his suitcase. He made his way down the street that would eventually lead him to the bus stop. His stomach growled. Stiles's messages about food had done more than make him feel guilty and ashamed. He went into a small café on the way and ordered a drink. The waitress looked like she thought he was going to murder her. He tried to smile reassuringly. She almost dropped his drink in her haste to get away from the table. He scowled after her.

His phone rang and it was from a number he didn't recognize. He ignored it and sipped at his drink. After a few seconds his phone notified him he had a voicemail. He dialed into his message box and listened.

"_Hey Derek, uhm… this is Allison. I just… I just wanted to say that we're all here. Stiles is making lunch later. He said he hopes you make it back in time. I… I wanted you to know that we all do. Sorry, Scott gave me this number."_

Derek deleted the message and set his phone on the table. He tried to forget the voice and took another drink. He pulled his book out of his suitcase, opened it to a random page and tried not to focus on anything. He didn't want to think about that morning, how he had occasionally glanced in through the open bathroom door and watched Stiles shrouded in steam. He didn't want to think about waking up with Stiles, of his voice, or his mouth, or his lips. He didn't want to think of how much he wanted to hold Stiles, to stroke his hair and tell him everything was ok, and how sorry he was for leaving.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the waitress asked him if everything was alright she did it very nervously. He ordered a sandwich and asked for a refill. She looked worried he wasn't leaving. He thought about trying to smile again, but the fear in her eyes told him it would make everything worse. Derek grunted. He wasn't that bad; she must just be worried about something else.

His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, narrowed his eyes. Derek couldn't help himself; eventually he picked it up and looked at it. It was from Scott, a picture message of Allison and Stiles sitting cross legged on the swinging bench outside the beach house. They faced each other playing cat's cradle. Stiles had his tongue out in concentration and Allison had been caught in the middle of laughing. There was a message with the picture.

'_That should be you, not her.'_

Derek growled under his breath, and the waitress almost dropped the ham and cheese he ordered. She asked him if he wanted anything else, but her voice sounded like it was praying that he didn't. He shook his head, locked his phone and set it down on the table. He ate his sandwich and tried not to think.

It was very early in the afternoon, and he kept looking at his phone. He had read a few chapters of his book, but time seemed like it was going too fast and crawling too slow by turns. He eventually paid for his food and left. He ignored the audible sighs of relief from the staff. Everyone in the café seemed to have been terrified of something. He walked towards the bus stop; it was still going to be hours before it would be there. His phone started buzzing again.

It was from Jackson. Derek clicked ignore to send it to voicemail. A few moments later he had another message; he dialed in and listened to Jackson's voice.

"_Hey dude, we're all waiting for you. We're playing volleyball down on the beach. The girls don't want to play so we need another guy. McCall and Stilinski versus me and you. I could beat them both, but I want to see you spike a volleyball through McCall's chest. Hurry up ok? Like I said, we're all waiting for you."_

Derek deleted the message and kept walking. It was just a couple of minutes later when he got another picture message from Scott. He opened it and looked; it made his stomach flip. The ham and cheese was not sitting in his stomach well. The picture was of Stiles in his orange swimming trunks stretched out on a towel, face down with his head on his arms. Lydia was kneeling over him, rubbing sunscreen on his back; she had a small smile on her face. There was a message with the picture too.

'_That should be you too'_

Another message was only a second behind.

'_Lydia says that Stiles has really soft skin, something about how he smells really good too.'_

Derek growled. A woman tried to shield her toddler from him as they crossed paths on the street. He made it to the bus stop and he still had hours before it would be there. He must have gotten lost. It shouldn't have taken him that long to reach the station. An hour or more passed and his phone buzzed again. This time it was Stiles. After a few moments he had another voicemail.

He resisted the urge to crush his phone; he wanted to throw the thing away so it would stop torturing him. He wanted to hear Stiles's voice though, so he dialed his mailbox and put his hand over his other ear so he would hear everything.

"_Hey Derek, you might not remember me. I'm the guy you picked up at the rave last night. I had a great time. My name is Stiles, I had a white vest on, had a little spiral pattern on the back. Remember? You kinda blew me this morning before running out while I was in the shower. Kinda makes a guy feel like a slut you know? Was that all I was to you? Just a morning snack before you went on about your life? I'm not a whore; I don't normally put out on the first date. Call me back ok? I… I have something I want to tell you. I'd rather do it in person."_

Derek's throat constricted as he listened to the message. It felt raw when he listened to it again. There was a deep pain in his chest when he played it a third time. By the fourth he thought the pain had gotten down into all the deepest cracks in his soul, took root there and wouldn't let go. It clung to him, like he had a crushing weight on his shoulders. He wished it was the weight of a guy who just didn't know when to shut up instead.

Derek sat down on a bench at the station and waited. Time passed and it wouldn't be too long before the bus arrived, probably a couple of hours before sunset. He got another text message notification. He looked down at it; it was from a number he didn't know. He got another one from the same number before he read the first.

'_Derek. This is Lydia. This is not what we agreed upon.'_

'_You're supposed to be taking care of him. Why am I trying to feed him ice cream while he cries?'_

Derek stared at the second message. He didn't want to think about Stiles's tears. Didn't want to think of how his breathing was probably coming in little starts and stops, he didn't want to think of his red eyes and trembling lips.

Half an hour left, just a half hour and the bus would be there. Sundown would be not too long in following, and then Derek could try to sleep on the bus back. He could try not to dream about what he'd done. His phone alerted him to a new message. He almost didn't look at it. Time crawled by, only fifteen minutes had passed. Eventually he looked at his phone, it was a message from Scott, it had some sort of video file attached to it. He took a deep breath and then opened it.

The audio crackled for a moment and the video it was displaying shook badly as the person who was filming it from their phone moved it around. Derek heard a voice from off-screen.

"Is this even going to work?" Jackson tried to sound indifferent, but failed horribly.

"Of course it's going to work," Allison said. She wasn't visible on the screen either.

"It might work if Scott could figure out how to use his camera," Lydia snapped. She sounded exasperated. "Give it to me I'll do it."

"No, it's working; it's already recording or whatever," Scott said defensively.

The image finally settled. It was focused on Stiles sitting in the hammock on the porch. His face was red; his cheeks looked like they were a little wet. He ran his bandaged hands over the hammock's ropes trying to steady it as his legs hung off the side.

"Dude, it's go time!" Scott said from behind the camera. His finger was visible in the edge of the picture frame for a second and then disappeared.

Stiles looked at the camera, ran the back of his hand across his face. He took a deep breath and then his eyes focused as they looked out from the video.

"Hey Derek," Stiles said into the camera. Derek couldn't shake the feeling that Stiles's brown eyes were locked onto him.

"I know why you left… well I think I know. You probably think you're dangerous, or that you're not the kind of person I want to be around. If that's what you're thinking, then you're stupid. You don't get to decide what kind of person I want to spend time with. I couldn't remember earlier, but now I do. You aren't the boss of me. You're supposed to be my friend. Friends don't just leave each other when one of them needs the other. I mean… well… we're not just friends. I mean, friends don't just give each other blow jobs or whatever. Well… unless they're Scott and Jackson," Stiles said.

"Hey not cool, Stilinksi," Jackson yelled from off-screen.

"Yeah man. Too soon," Scott confirmed.

"Shut up, idiots. You're ruining it!" Lydia's command silenced the two of them.

"Go on, Stiles you're doing great." Allison's encouraging voice filtered through the speaker.

Stiles looked at the camera again. Scott zoomed in so that it was focused on Stiles's face.

"The point I'm trying to make is that if you feel like you're trying to protect me you're doing a shitty job. How are you going to protect me if you don't know where I am or what I'm doing? More than that, I don't need your protection!"

Stiles voice cracked a little bit as he spoke. Derek realized he'd been holding his breath. He took a shallow one as he kept his eyes focused on the video playing.

"I'm not some fragile thing you're going to break if you touch me too hard. I sorta… kinda like it when you're rough anyway…"

There were two groans in the background, and Stiles's face and ears got red.

"Anyway, I'm distracting myself, but this is what I really want to say..."

He paused and then looked away from the camera at something behind it.

"Dude, get closer," Stiles seemed to be talking to Scott.

"I'm zoomed in," Scott said.

"Oh… I … well I couldn't have known that, dude. Are we going to edit this?"

"It's a video on my phone, how the hell would we?"

"I think it's going to be perfect as it is," Allison said from off-screen.

"Yeah, it perfectly illustrates how retarded these guys are," Jackson taunted.

There was a loud crack as though someone had slapped someone else. On the video screen Stiles winced, but shook his fist in victory. It looked like he whispered, 'yes' under his breath.

"Thanks, Lydia," Stiles said. He looked back at the camera, back into Derek's soul. "What I wanted to say is that… I think I'm falling in love with you. I think I may already be in love with you, but if you don't stop running I'm never going to find out. It's not just me you're leaving behind either. It's Scott and Allison, Jackson, and Lydia too. We're supposed to be one pack, one group, and you're supposed to be here with us."

Derek's throat constricted again.

"I know that maybe you think you weren't strong enough to protect your family, that you need to be stronger, but the thing is this is a second chance. The five of us, and you too, we can be strong together. We can take turns being strong, help each other. You and me, we can find out what we've got between us, and we can take it as slow as you want." Stiles swallowed nervously and then leaned forward looking directly at the camera.

"If you want that too, if you want to know what it is you and I could be if we stopped running and stopped hiding, then find me before the sun goes down okay? I know you can. I can't find you. I don't have Danny to track your phone. I don't have a super werewolf tracking power. I'm just a normal guy, just a regular person. So I'm going to have to rely on you to do it. You have to find me because that's what people do when they care about each other. They do things the other people can't. So do it Derek, prove Scott wrong, find me before the sun goes down. Unless I really was just your whore, something to distract yourself before you moved on."

The video ended. Derek looked up at the sky; he had maybe an hour left perhaps less. He was tired of being alone. He wanted to do what Stiles said, wanted to give it a second chance. Maybe this time he'd be strong enough, and if he wasn't, then maybe he could lean on his pack. That's what they were supposed to be there for.

Derek didn't even notice he left his suitcase behind as he ran down the street away from the bus stop. He wasn't sure how much time he had. He was just guessing. His legs strained, his heart pumped, and he had never run so fast in his life.


	28. Run the Gauntlet

Derek ran, he ran and he got tired and he kept on running. He started to think his heart was pumping battery acid through his veins, but he still needed to go faster. He dodged around people on the boardwalk as he ran through the shopping strip. He jumped hedges, and he looked for shortcuts back to the house. Stiles's trail would start there.

It didn't take nearly as long to get back to the beach house as it had taken to get to the bus station, but he never wanted to be anywhere so badly before in his life. Allison was sitting on the swinging bench on the porch and saw him coming. She stood up and waved to him as he came running up.

"Where..." he gasped out, "where is he?"

Allison's smile was radiant when he asked and in that moment, Derek knew why Scott loved her; he knew why he gambled his life on her despite her family. He wanted to smile, but he didn't have it in him. He needed to conserve his energy. Derek imagined he was probably frowning, Stiles was right, they probably weren't all scowls.

"I'd tell you to smile because someone might be falling in love with you right now, but I think he likes your face in general." Allison's voice was musical and full of laughter as she said it. Derek smiled at her. The girl's eyes widened and she clapped her hands.

"You know where he is?"

"I know what direction he went," she told him seriously, then she smiled the way that Stiles smiled, full of mischief and mirth. "But forget what I said, he's definitely going to want that smile after all. You should use those more often." With that she pointed down the beach vaguely east.

Derek nodded his thanks to her, and took off around the house; the sky was starting to incrementally darken. The sun hadn't set. He still had time. He jumped down the side of the hill because there wasn't time to go to the back of the porch and down the ramp through the garden. He hit the beach at a run and kept going. He sniffed at the air, and found what he was looking for, traces of Stiles as well as the other members of the pack. They were east.

Derek ran. His legs were starting to burn, and he wished he had never left. He jumped over a couple he had only noticed at the last moment, spraying them with sand from his shoes. They squawked out in disapproval, but he didn't have time. He sniffed at the air again. He knew who he was going to run into before the person became visible.

Jackson stood on the beach looking out over the sea; he had a wistful look on his face, watching the sun sinking. The young blonde turned and looked at Derek, must have heard his heartbeat long before Derek had been visible.

"Where is he?"

Jackson looked at him, and maybe for the first time in a long time Derek didn't see any fear in his face. Jackson regarded him with an even gaze, searched him for something. Derek imagined after having had his arm nearly torn off, a panting Derek wasn't much of an intimidating presence.

"We're a family," Jackson told him, "maybe that's not how it started but that's how it is now."

"I know. I'm sorry," Derek said as he nodded solemnly.

"I didn't know what that really meant before we came here."

Derek didn't say anything. He looked at the sky and then at Jackson imploringly. Jackson watched him, sniffed the air and tilted his head as though he was trying to figure something out. Derek wasn't sure what it was. He tried to look at Jackson and communicate to him how much he needed to find Stiles, how desperately he needed to make things right.

Eventually Jackson nodded, turned back toward the sun making its descent and used his thumb to gesture further east. In the distance, in the direction Jackson had gestured towards there was a trail of smoke as though a bonfire was burning somewhere down the beach.

Having caught his breath and a second wind, Derek sprinted off towards the smoke. He smelled the sweet perfume Lydia favored after running for only a few minutes; it had a slightly smoky edge to it because of the flames. She turned to regard him as he came into the warmth.

He met her eyes. This was the first time they had been alone since the warehouse. He respected her more than he ever had as she drew her natural charisma around her and looked directly into his eyes, something she had never really done until the previous night. She was regal and the fire reflected off her hair. Derek could see why Stiles had loved her, why he still might love her, and swallowed down the jealousy the thought stirred. She was like a goddess outlined in flame poised to pronounce judgment.

"Where-"

"No!" Lydia interrupted him, his mouth snapped close with an audible click. Some part of him did not like the challenge in her voice, but he had accepted her as a sort of equal, had accepted her original claim on Stiles. She watched him closely. Even without heightened eyesight or olfactory senses she seemed to be taking in far more than Jackson had.

"We had a deal," Lydia said, "I was under the impression you understood what that meant."

"I didn't really know, not until today." They kept their gazes locked on each other. Derek knew the sun was creeping further down towards the sea far in the distance. Lydia was dismantling and rebuilding him in her mind, trying to see which parts fit and which parts didn't.

"He's at a cove not much further east," she said as she stepped close into Derek's personal space.

He didn't back away, but looked down at her, towered over her. Slowly, not removing her eyes from his she tilted her head back and to the side. It was a gesture showing that she understood what she had seen in him, that it had passed whatever criteria she was judging him by, and that she accepted his leadership. He nodded respectfully to her.

Then he ran, he was almost out of time, he knew who he was going to run into next and knew that it was going to be the most difficult thing to treat the situation with the respect it deserved. Something about Scott just always pissed him off.

When he came around a bend in the beach and saw the cove, he also saw Scott standing with a lacrosse stick in his hands. Derek stopped running a short distance away and walked the rest of it. He took deep calming breaths as he did. Scott's eyes were already the same color as the burning horizon that signaled Derek was close to running out of time. His hands on the stick were claws, his fangs extended and looking for any reason to be provoked into getting around Derek's throat.

Neither of them said anything at first; they just stared at each other. Eventually Scott's eyes turned back to normal, his claws faded away and his fangs retracted. Derek had never seen such a serious look on Scott's face.

"Two strikes," Scott declared.

Derek waited for the threat.

"Strike one: You hurt him, tore him open and spilled his blood."

Derek nodded, but kept quiet.

"Strike two: You took his heart out of his chest, you dropped it on the ground and you stepped on it."

Derek watched him; there was nothing Scott could say that Derek hadn't already lashed himself emotionally over. Scott wasn't telling Derek anything he didn't already know.

"I swear on everything I've ever loved, on my mom, on Allison, on my friendship with Stiles…" Scott took a deep breath as he paused. Derek watched golden fire erupt in those eyes again, saw the deadly promise there. Respected it, respected that Scott had found it in himself, that he had risen above the selfish person he was when they had arrived.

"If you hit strike three," Scott continued, "I'm going to get the Sheriff, I'm going to tell him you hurt Stiles. I'm going to get bullets from Allison's family. I'm going to load his shotgun for him with them, and I'm going to help him hunt you down like a fucking dog and you're going to hope that we never find you, but I promise you Derek, I promise you that we will and you'll wish we didn't. Don't doubt that."

As threats went that was pretty good. Derek nodded. Scott stood there for another few moments, eyes still full of that amber energy that said his wolf was near the surface. He watched the young beta exult in the furious power inside of him and respected that Scott finally realized what it was truly meant for, what he could do with it.

When Scott stepped out of the way Derek hurried into the cove. The sun had almost reached the water. On the far side, only a few tide pools between them Stiles stood waiting.


	29. In the Fading Light

Derek looked at Stiles as daylight faded around them. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't very good with words. Stiles was the one who was good with them. Stiles could tell stories, could make you see them with his gestures and the passion in his voice. Derek couldn't speak the same language Stiles was so fluent in. He didn't have a way to let people know what he was thinking that easily. All he could do was try to show Stiles, show him and hope that he understood.

Derek pulled the seashell he'd taken from their room out of his pocket and held it out, held his breath also as Stiles walked closer to him. Stiles took it out of his hand. Derek was afraid he would never get to touch it again. He was terrified that Stiles would take it back and then leave.

"There are better looking ones out there I bet. Ones you've probably never seen," Stiles said.

"I don't want them, I like that one." Derek resisted the urge to reach out and touch Stiles's hand. He hadn't been forgiven yet, he had no right to touch.

"What makes it special?" Stiles tilted his head curiously. He took a step closer. "Why that one?"

"It's different than the others." Derek looked away when Stiles stepped even closer and looked up at him. Derek couldn't meet that gaze, was afraid of what Stiles would find if he looked too closely. He closed his eyes to hide them.

"How is it different, Derek?"

"It's gone through a lot. It almost broke, but it was strong enough that it didn't fall apart completely." Derek felt Stiles grasp the hand he'd let fall to his side. He hadn't realized he was clenching his fingers until Stiles opened them up one by one. Derek opened his eyes. Stiles put the shell back in his hand. Even in what little daylight remained Derek could see the fine cracks running through it, could see where the surface was stained red slightly on its jagged edges.

"It's stronger than it looks," Stiles told him. He stood up straighter, as if daring Derek to argue.

Derek didn't argue he just nodded. His hand shook as Stiles closed his fingers back over it one at a time. He took a shaky breath and looked back into those brown eyes that saw too much, that knew too many secrets.

"I just wanted to make sure nothing else happened to it," Derek confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"If you find something valuable and you hit it form everyone, if you don't share it, then what good is it?" Stiles's heartbeat was as steady as his eyes. Derek would have thought it'd be a rapid pulsing, but there was no nervous energy in Stiles. He was completely focused.

"I don't know… I don't know what I'm doing." Derek was shaking and he wasn't sure if it was from the fatigue of running across the city, or if it was something else. He shivered when he felt soft hands on his neck pulling his head forward. He didn't open his eyes when he felt Stiles press their foreheads together.

"Being with someone, trusting them, I don't think it's about always knowing what you're doing. You have to sort of just feel it out as it goes," Stiles said. "It's like poetry you write together by living in each other's space, using how you feel to find the right rhythm."

Derek felt tears run down his cheeks, he wished that he was like that, could just say whatever came into his mind and be so easily understood. "I'm sorry," he said, it was all he could manage. He hoped it would be enough.

"Open your eyes," Stiles said. "I want you to see this with me. I don't want to watch it alone again."

Derek opened his eyes and looked in the direction that Stiles was looking. The sun was almost fully down. The last moments of the sunset spread out over the ocean. Derek wished he could see what Stiles was seeing; he imagined that to him it looked like something else entirely. Derek thought that maybe Stiles saw everything in a way that no one else could, like there was so much magic and wonder in the world that it would tear him apart if he wasn't careful, fill his heart up and break it open.

Derek didn't know how to say any of that though, so he placed a soft kiss on Stiles's cheek, let himself be drawn down into the sand. He was exhausted and trembling. He stretched out and put his head on Stiles's leg. He thought that maybe even if he couldn't see what Stiles saw, if he was there with him then it would be enough. Stiles watched the sunset and stroked his hair with warm hands. Derek watched Stiles's face, he looked happy. It was better than the sunset.

"Can we just stay here tonight?" Derek didn't think he had the energy to walk back to the house. He wanted to just rest, to curl up with Stiles in the warm sand and not have to think anymore.

"Yeah," Stiles said. He moved his leg out from under Derek's head. Once they were settled against each other Stiles was cradling Derek's head against his chest.

Maybe it would be enough if he was just there, even if he couldn't tell Stiles what every single thing that happened to them meant to him. He'd do it the best he could, in his own way. He tightened his arms around Stiles's body.

He'd be there for the sunrises and the sunsets, for the games, for the tears, and for the laughter. He thought that would be enough, and if it wasn't, he imagined that Stiles would tell him, because that's what he was good at doing. If Stiles ended up talking too much then Derek would find a way to quiet him down, because that's what Derek found out he was good at doing. In that way, maybe they could find a balance.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"When we wake up tomorrow, you're going to make me breakfast, okay?"

"Okay."

"And Derek?" Stiles was relentless.

Derek huffed out a breath against Stiles's neck; he was going to have to find out if he really was good at getting Stiles to be quiet sooner than he thought. "Yeah?"

"After breakfast…"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to wash all this sand off me in our shower, okay?"

Derek didn't say anything. He smiled against Stiles's skin and placed another gentle kiss on his neck. The memory of Stiles shrouded in steam from that morning was still fresh in his mind, it probably always would be. Stiles would get that shower, but he wasn't sure how much washing they were going to be doing. He had better things in mind.

"Stiles?" Derek figured he should be allowed to make plans for them too.

Stiles chuckled, the movement vibrating Derek's head. "Yeah?"

"Before I make you breakfast, I want to watch you watch the sunrise."

"You're weird, but okay," Stiles said.

Derek felt another soft kiss brush his hair, let his strained muscles relax, and for the first time in a long time, felt content as he fell asleep.


	30. Wash Away the Sand

Derek blinked sleepily as the sky lightened. Stiles was a warm weight against his side. He could feel hot even breaths through the thin shirt he was wearing. He thought Stiles might have been drooling on him because his shirt was a little wet too. He yawned and looked down at the top of Stiles's head. Stiles turned his face away from the light and buried it in Derek's shoulder making a protesting sound as he did.

"You awake?" Derek knew that he was, but he also knew Stiles could be dangerous when waking up.

"No," Stiles grunted. He tightened traced small circles on Derek's stomach.

"If you were awake we could go back to the house and get that shower," Derek said. He chuckled when Stiles made an interested noise against his skin. "Let's go," he said as he got to his feet and pulled an only mildly enraged wolverine with him. They were coated with sand.

Stiles curled his arms around Derek's waist and said, "I don't think I'm ever going to get all this sand off me."

"I can't wait to try my hand at it," Derek smiled at the scandalized look Stiles gave him. He brushed some of the sand away from Stiles's pink face. Derek turned Stiles in his arms so they stood facing the oncoming sunrise. Neither of them said anything, but Derek kissed the back of Stiles's head when he grasped Derek's arms that were wrapped around his waist.

"This is perfect," Stiles said.

Derek smiled against Stiles's hair. After the sun had pulled itself free from the ocean in the distance he said, "Ready?"

"Yeah. I think I am."

They walked west back towards the house, when Stiles tentatively reached out to hold his hand as they went, Derek just let him do as he pleased, and gently squeezed. They left footprints in the sand behind them, Derek occasionally sniffed at the air out of habit. When they neared the location of the bonfire he had met with Lydia at the previous night he emitted a low growl that made Stiles jump.

"What is it?" Stiles's glanced around for whatever had put Derek's hackles up.

Derek narrowed his eyes as a jogger came around the bend. The guy had blonde hair, terrible blue eyes, and the most infuriating smile he had ever seen. The jogger stopped as he saw them together holding hands.

"Oh god," the blonde said. Recognition flickered in his very wide eyes as he looked at Derek.

"One," Derek said.

"But, Derek. I don't think—"

"Two…" Derek tried not to grin as the young man turned and fled north towards the street, falling when he reached the base of the hill. Even in the distance he had covered, Derek could see the look of panic on the guy's face as he scrambled up to his feet and cast a glance back in their direction. He could smell the satisfyingly acrid stench of fear that leaked from the blonde's pours.

Stiles snorted. "Was that really necessary?"

Derek pulled his hand free of Stiles's grip and wrapped the arm his arm of Stiles's shoulders. "Yes"

Stiles lips turned up in a goofy grin. Derek loved it. They continued west and eventually made it back to the house. Derek opened the door quietly, the two of them stepped lightly as they went up the stairs. They didn't want to disturb the other members of the pack. They walked down the hall to their room making sure to keep in contact with each other as they went.

In the bathroom Derek couldn't help but notice that Stiles was practically quivering with anticipation. Stiles fussed and complained when Derek made him hold his shirt up so that he could remove the old bandages from his side, clean the wounds, and then apply more fresh water resistant bandages. The cuts in Stiles's hands looked to be healed enough that he decided to leave them unbound while they were in the shower.

"Ok," Derek said, "you're all done." He chuckled when Stiles let out a groan of pleasure and turned the faucets in the shower on.

Steam started to fill the bathroom as they stood side by side looking into the mirror and brushing their teeth. Derek noticed that neither of them was looking at their own reflection.

"Man this oral routine takes too long," Stiles said. He took a gulp of green mouthwash and started gargling.

"I hope you won't feel that way once we get in the shower," Derek said. Stiles choked for a second, then accidentally spit mouthwash all over the sink and mirror in shock. "You're cleaning that up."

Stiles blinked at him. Derek grinned at the shocked look on his face. There was something immensely satisfying about Stiles's confusion.

"When… when did you become funny?"

Derek scowled at Stiles. "I've always been funny," he said, "it's not my fault you never noticed."

"What part of being stoic and not blinking is funny? I've got to tell you, Frowny, I just don't see it."

"The part where I make it so you never call me 'Frowny' again," Derek said. He knew that he could never win an argument using words, so he pinned Stiles up against the glass door of the shower, got a knee between his legs and got his hands underneath Stiles's shirt.

Stiles's made a little whimpering noise and ground his groin down onto Derek's thigh. "Yes," he groaned.

"Raise your arms." When Stiles had the shirt up off his head but the fabric was still around his forearms Derek leaned in and grabbed the material, twisted it slightly trapping his arms above his head. Derek's mouth was watering as he leaned in and took a deep breath from right against Stiles's chest. He relished the small surprised grunt he forced out of the boy's lips as he bit down on the skin there.

"Derek," Stiles whispered. His voice sounded raw. Derek could smell the arousal rolling off him in waves.

He wanted to know what other noises he could get Stiles to make, but he wanted to clean him up first, get all the course sand off his creamy skin. Stiles's breath hitched when Derek's hands closed over his belt and started to undo it. He captured Stiles's lower lip in his teeth, nibbled on it as he got the jeans undone and slid them down Stile's hips. Derek released Stiles's arms and turned him around so he was facing the shower, his cheek smearing the warm condensation on the glass.

The noises Stiles made as Derek licked against his spine caused heat to blossom in Derek's belly. The way Stiles shivered under his hands as he slowly forced the jeans off his hips made Derek impatient to get his own clothes off. He'd get to it just as soon as he had Stiles naked and trembling.

"Derek, it's my turn," Stiles said.

Derek licked Stiles's spine again, bit down on the back of his neck and made a noncommittal noise in his throat as he slid Stiles's boxers to the bathroom floor. He growled when the Stiles twisted out of his grasp. He hadn't been expecting that, otherwise he would have had a firmer hold on those smooth hips.

"Come here," Derek said.

Stiles gave him a pouting look Derek couldn't resist. He went to Stiles, gripped the bottom of his shirt in his hands as he closed in. He let out a small grunt of surprise when Stiles slapped his hands. He started to scowl, but he got distracted when a pink tongue darted out of the mouth he was focused on.

"Let me do it. I… I want to do…" Stiles hesitated. Derek was going to say yes to whatever it was that Stiles wanted, they both knew it. He thought maybe Stiles just wanted to hear him say it was okay.

"Go ahead," Derek said. "Whatever you want…"

Stiles grinned at him; it made Derek's heartbeat speed up. How had he ever gotten so lucky? He focused his eyes on Stiles's face as he got closer, rubbed himself against Stiles's hands as they slowly undressed him. Derek groaned in disappointment when Stiles stopped the light and curious exploration of his skin.

Stiles turned and stepped into the shower, then stuck his head around the glass and asked, "You coming?"

Derek would follow that naked body anywhere. He practically jumped into the steaming spray. He let Stiles maneuver him inside until he had Derek where he wanted under the middle shower nozzle. Slowly, so infuriatingly slowly, Stiles started to run his hands over Derek's body. He leaned his head back against the tile of the shower's wall and tried to endure the soft touches.

"We're clean enough now right?" Derek knew he sounded desperate, but he'd waited so long he couldn't help it.

"Shhh, I'm busy here. Don't be so distracting," Stiles said.

Derek almost swallowed a mouthful of hot water. Stiles thought _he_ was distracting. Stiles was a walking case study in distracting. Derek opened his mouth; all that came out was a low groan when Stiles gripped his slowly hardening cock.

Derek blinked water out of his eyes. Stiles leaned forward, lips slightly parted. Derek met that warm mouth, wanted to do more than kiss, but Stiles seemed like he was on a mission. He'd never gotten to investigate Derek's body in the light before, never got to take his time with it.

He closed his eyes as Stiles slid down his body. He was hard from Stiles's persistent hand on his cock and he tried to keep his hips still and let Stiles do what he wanted, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Derek let out a hissing breath. A too talented mouth closed over one of his nipples, the tongue licking against it experimentally. Stiles seemed to think turnabout was fair play. He didn't linger there for very long which Derek was thankful for, he was finally about to get something he desperately wanted from the mouth that was never still. His dick strained in Stiles's hand at the thought of it.

He opened his eyes, watched Stiles sink to his knees in the shower. The water cascaded off of him, dripping from his eyelashes and lips. Derek didn't think he'd ever been this hard in his life. He clenched his hands into fists and tried to be still as Stiles slowly leaned forward and placed a shy kiss on the head of his dick.

Stiles wanted to drive him crazy, and was succeeding admirably. The kiss was followed by a tentative lick. Derek bit his tongue to keep himself under control. He was captivated by the dark head moving between his legs. He watched Stiles run a teasing tongue underneath the tip of his cock, like wanted to see what it tasted like. Derek was thrilled when Stiles seemed to like what he found there and drew Derek's cock into his mouth.

Wonderful, heat encircled just the tip, and Derek used everything shred of willpower he had not to thrust forward. Stiles moaned low in his throat as though he were savoring the taste of what he found. Derek wouldn't have said that he whined in need, but the noise that ripped out of his throat probably wasn't too far from it.

Stiles looked up at the noise, lips still around Derek's cock and the werewolf was never going to forget that moment, Stiles's lips wrapped around him, eyes looking to see if Derek liked what he was doing.

"Harder, Stiles," Derek said, "Please, more…"

Stiles's eyes widened, he took to what he was doing with a vengeance. Derek groaned at the tight, sucking heat. His hips twitched slightly. Stiles made a needy noise around his cock when he moved. Derek couldn't hold back any longer.

His fingers locked around behind Stiles's head. He made an experimental thrust forward with his hips. Stiles whimpered around his dick, and that was all the encouragement Derek needed to take it the next step. He bucked his hips forward and watched as Stiles sucked him down. He growled out his need into the cloying heat of the shower. Stiles grabbed his own hard dick and start twisting and pulling feverishly at it while making encouraging noises as Derek thrust into his mouth.

"Don't come yet," Derek said.

Stiles made a high pitched whine around his cock, but removed his hands from himself. Derek looked down into brown eyes, at cheeks that were red as they sucked and worked around his dick, at pupils blown open with lust. Derek watched as Stiles clenched and unclenched his hands, clearly desperate to get them back around himself. Stiles made another encouraging noise as he looked up at Derek from his knees.

Derek couldn't hold back, started to roll and snap his hips forward into Stiles's mouth harder. He was careful, but forceful. Stiles's tongue and lips worked and Derek could already see how swollen they were. There was desperate need in those brown eyes.

"Come on then, show me how much you want it," Derek encouraged.

Stiles made delirious little noises and sucked harder and longer as Derek fucked into his mouth; it was the wettest, hottest thing Derek had ever seen. Stiles's dick was hard and straining, even through the water Derek could smell how close Stiles was to the edge. His cock twitched wildly, like Stiles was about to peak just from the feeling of Derek in his mouth.

The thought almost sent Derek over the edge. "Stiles stop… I'm…" Derek tried to say more, but he couldn't. Stiles got his fingers back around himself, fisted his cock fast and hard, but still somehow managed to suck and twist his mouth and tongue around Derek in ways that the werewolf didn't even know were possible. Derek started to thrust deeper and harder as his body began to spasm. Stiles made hungry desperate noises as he kept working with his mouth and then he was losing control too.

Derek's legs were shaking when he fell back against the shower wall, but Stiles didn't let him out of the hot prison of his mouth; he was sucking and nursing Derek's cock while he stroked himself through the aftershocks of his own orgasm, deep vibrating noises coming up through his throat.

"Holy fuck," Derek gasped out.

Stiles released him finally, taking panting breaths and looked up into Derek's face again. "Was that good?"

Derek looked down at Stiles on his knees with his legs spread wide. He still had one of his fists wrapped tightly around his cock while the thumb of his other hand rubbed across his swollen lips, pink tongue darting out against it.

"It was _awesome_," Derek said.

Stiles grinned and said, "Let's take this to the bed after we finish washing the sand off, okay?"

Derek groaned. Stiles was going to be the death of him. He thought that he would enjoy his last moments on earth a great deal though.


	31. Breakfast in Bed

Stiles fidgeted in Derek's bed. He'd been given very simple instructions that were far too difficult to follow. Derek had told him to stay in the bed, not get dressed, and wait quietly. Derek should have just told him to turn air into gold or something equally ridiculous.

He counted the shells on the stand next to the bed, glanced at the picture of his mother. She would have loved Derek, and teased him mercilessly. She would have been so happy they found each other. He gently lowered the frame face down onto the nightstand so that her smiling face wasn't looking at him. There were some things a mother shouldn't see her son doing. Stiles was going to do all of them, unless Derek's heart gave out first. He grinned wickedly as the door opened and Derek entered balancing a number of plates, glasses, and bowls on a tray.

"What did you bring me?" Stiles sat up in the bed, his stomach rumbling at the promise of food.

Derek didn't say anything as he came over. He still only had a towel tied around his hips. He set the tray down over Stiles's blanket covered lower half and kissed his neck as Stiles shifted and moved things around on the tray to see what was there. Stiles picked up a banana and gave Derek an accusatory look. "Pervert," he said.

Derek smiled and took the banana from Stiles, peeled it and began eating it, or possibly making love to it. Stiles's face got red as Derek made delightful noises as he finished the suggestively shaped fruit. "You okay?" Derek didn't sound nearly as innocent as he pretended.

Stiles opened his mouth, made some noise that he couldn't define, and then closed it again. After several little shaky squeaking noises, and clearing his throat, his voice finally came back. "Totally good."

Derek grinned at him and picked up a bowl of strawberries and set them on the nightstand near the picture frame Stiles had set face down. Stiles shrugged and whistled innocently when Derek raised an eyebrow at him after seeing it.

"I don't get any strawberries?" There was a lot of food, but strawberries were delicious and Derek seemed intent on hoarding them all to himself.

"They're for me once you're finished eating." Derek got a hand under Stiles's blanket and brushed his knuckles along his hip.

"Why aren't you eating them right now?" Stiles's mouth was watering, he wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the breakfast, but Derek was weirding him out just sitting there staring at him.

"Because there's a tray in my way," Derek said. He licked his lips suggestively.

Stiles blinked down at the tray in his lap, then shifted to try to ease some of the tension that was starting to build in his lower body. First, he would eat the eggs that Derek had made for him, once that was done, they would get to the dessert.

Stiles ate his breakfast with a speed and ferocity that would have made a lioness feasting on a gazelle question the barbarism with which he dispatched the innocent looking food. "What?" He mumbled through a mouth that was full of equal parts eggs, sausage links, and buttered wheat toast.

Derek blinked at him and Stiles wondered what was wrong. Derek seemed terrified of something. Stiles looked to the other side of the room to see what Derek was worried about. There was nothing there. He looked back at Derek and tilted his head. He swallowed the food in his mouth and licked his lips in satisfaction. He took another bite of sausage.

"I don't think I ever realized how close to death anything is that gets near your mouth," Derek said.

Stiles huffed out a breath, choking slightly on the piece of sausage he was trying to finish off. He nodded his thanks when Derek patted him on the back to help him get it out of the wrong pipe in his throat. He didn't comment when Derek's hand slipped down to brush against the top of his naked ass. Stiles was planning on giving Derek the silent treatment.

He took a drink of orange juice and ate a spoonful of blueberries as he considered how long Derek's punishment should last. He took a bite of a cinnamon apple muffin and thought that Derek had learned his lesson.

"Aren't you going to eat any of this?"

Derek gave him another wicked smile and picked up the last remaining sausage link on the plate. Stiles swallowed another mouthful of orange juice, but it almost went down wrong pipe too when Derek said, "We can share this if you want."

Stiles tried not to blink as Derek put the sausage in his mouth and leaned forward. Derek's hand brushed against the tip of Stiles's hardening dick, and he almost upended the breakfast tray accidentally.

"Oh god, I never saw this version of Lady and the Tramp, but if I had it would have been awesome," Stiles whispered.

Derek prodded his lips with the sausage and Stiles couldn't think anymore, he just opened his mouth and met Derek halfway through it, lips brushing together. Stiles moaned against Derek's tongue when it made its way into his mouth. Stiles whimpered as quietly as he could when Derek brushed against his cock again.

"And now you're done with breakfast," Derek told him as he picked up the tray from Stiles's lap. "Now it's my turn."

Stiles had never agreed with Derek so much. The werewolf placed the tray away from the bed on the floor, but picked up a bowl that had been filled with some sort of cream dip. Stiles clutched the sheets he was under so that he wouldn't start wildly going after himself until Derek could get back to the bed. All Derek had done was feed him, but he was already painfully hard.

"W-what's that for?" Stiles eyed the bowl of cream suspiciously.

"It's for my breakfast." Derek walked back towards the bed slowly and Stiles didn't hate that the towel was slowly coming unraveled from around Derek's waist. Derek gestured for him to scoot over on the bed and lay back.

Stiles licked his lips and followed the directions. He laid back and covered his face with his hands because the look of the sheet tenting over his hips was obscene and made him feel like he was about to take part in a porno. His cock twitched when Derek pulled the sheet off him.

"Derek, this is totally embarrassing," Stiles whined.

"I love to watch you."

Stiles swallowed, felt the bed shift as Derek climbed onto it. He peeked through the cracks in his fingers. Derek swirled his fingers through the cream, as he knelt on the edge of the bed. He had discarded the towel and Stiles moaned as Derek's dick bobbed up and down in anticipation of what was going to happen.

He closed his eyes, felt the soft, cool cream being spread in a trail down from his belly button. He bit his lips to try to be quiet. If there was anything he was truly terrible at, it was being quiet. A hissing expulsion of breath proved his point as Derek brushed cream covered fingers around the head of his dick. He tried to focus his thoughts and keep his cock from twitching madly.

"Derek," Stiles whispered.

Derek didn't say anything, just applied random strips of cream onto different parts of Stiles's body. Nipples, belly button, his non-bandaged side, a liberal amount on his throat, the werewolf was covering them all. By the time Derek was done finger painting, Stiles trembled at the teasing touches.

"Derek, please…"

The bed shifted and he pulled his hands away from his face, watched Derek's wickedly mischievous smirk as he retrieved the strawberries then returned to kneeling on the bed, took one of the berries out and ran it through the cream on one of his nipples. Stiles toes curled and his fingers twitched. Derek kept rubbing as he leaned in to eat the cream and the fruit directly off the sensitive flesh. He gasped out, Derek was using more tongue and teeth than were strictly necessary. Stiles loved it.

"This is good," Derek said as he licked his lips.

Stiles dick twitched again. "Derek… I want… I want to," he gasped out as Derek ran another berry over his throat then put it to Stiles's lips. Derek leaned in to share the fruit as Stiles bit into it. The juice ran over the sides of his mouth. Derek made sure he got all of it before it made it too far across Stiles's skin.

"You can do whatever you want," Derek told him, "as long as it doesn't include getting up or touching yourself."

Stiles pouted at the words but decided to capitalize on the loop hole. He stretched his fingers out towards the bowl and Derek let him dip his fingers into it watching him curiously.

"Go ahead, don't mind me," Stiles said. He tried to ignore how much his dick was straining into the air.

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles before shrugging and kneeling over to rub one of the berries around the crown of Stiles's cock. The aching pleasure of the teasing almost made Stiles loose his train of thought. He mewled out his pleasure and Derek growled in response, got closer to feast on the berry and the tip of Stiles's dick, but was very careful not to scrape Stiles with his teeth.

Stiles managed to get his fingers around Derek's dick. The werewolf grunted at the grip Stiles used. Encouraged by the noises Derek made, Stiles spread the cream as much as he could on the twitching heat in his hand.

Derek abandoned all pretense of using the berries and set to meticulously cleaning the off Stiles's skin. Stiles twisted and pulled on Derek's dick, the needy little groans and bites coming from Derek's mouth turning him on even more.

Stiles gestured Derek forward and then used his tongue to clean the cream off that he had spread over Derek's hard length. He moaned lewdly as the werewolf knelt above him, thrusting down into his mouth to feed him his cock.

"Stiles… I want to-"

"I want you to do it, whatever it is. Do it." Stiles ignored how greedy he sounded, how tight his voice was. Derek's cock strained against Stiles's lips as his warm breath ghosted over it.

"Let go," Derek told him, his voice unsteady.

Stiles let go of Derek and closed his eyes. The bed shifted as Derek got up. Stiles heard a drawer open.

"Oh god," Stiles whispered.

"We don't-"

"I want to, just… be careful okay?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

Stiles nodded and kept his eyes closed, tried not to shake as he felt the bed dip again and the sound of some sort of cap opening. His body started to shake and he realized he was getting harder, it wasn't just nervousness. He wanted this, desperately.

Fingers covered in some sort of oily lubricant brushed against the tight ring of muscle between his legs. His dick jumped in interest and he opened his legs wider. "Derek… please let me… let me touch myself…"

"Anything but your dick," Derek said, "that's mine."

Stiles ground his hips down into the fingers that were probing at him, gasped as the first one slipped inside. It felt foreign and odd, not bad, not painful, just different. He took a ragged breath and ran the fingers of one of his hands across his nipples, twisted and pulled at them, changing which one as it became too overly sensitive and moving back to the other. He ran his other hand across his stomach down towards the abandoned hard length of flesh that restlessly bobbed up and down. Derek's warning growl stopped his hand's downward progress. He brought it back up and stroked his stomach instead.

Derek worked more of his fingers inside and Stiles tried to relax and open his legs more but he was already splayed out as much as he could be, knees in the air, feet flat on the bed, his legs shaking slightly. Stiles gasped out as Derek did something unreal, his body seized up around the fingers inside of him and he bit his lips hard enough to almost draw blood.

"Are you okay?" Derek sounded worried. Worried was not good, worried meant he was going to slow down or stop, and Stiles wanted the exact opposite of that.

"Fuck yes," Stiles said. His throat was tight, and his voice was raw, but he didn't care. "Now, come on, Derek. Please stop teasing me."

Stiles opened his eyes when Derek didn't say anything. Derek was looking between Stiles's legs and licking his lips, eyes blown open with lust. Stiles groaned and pushed harder onto Derek's fingers. When Derek pulled his fingers free, Stiles whimpered at the loss, and then quieted as Derek climbed up further in the bed. He got Stile's legs folded up between them, arms hooked over the backs of Stiles's knees.

"Maybe you should—"

"I want to see your face," Stiles said.

Derek leaned down, caught Stiles's bottom lip in his teeth. Stiles felt Derek lining their bodies up. He pulled free of Derek's mouth, arched and pushed his ass up into Derek's hips as he bit the werewolf's neck. The feeling was brutal at first, twisting pain as he felt like Derek was going to split him open. He muffled the noises he made against Derek's neck and shoulder, sucked harder to distract himself.

"Careful," Derek said. He tried to stifle the small whining noise in the back of his throat.

Stiles felt Derek's cock inside him straining. He wanted more, wanted Derek to want more, wanted Derek to stop treating him like was going to break. He scratched his nails down Derek's side to make a point.

"Move, please," Stiles commanded. "You're not going to break me."

Derek froze in place and Stiles couldn't wait anymore for Derek, he rolled his hips up into Derek's body and gasped as the angle forced Derek's cock to hit something inside that set his mind on fire, burned out all his thoughts except for _more, now, harder._

Stiles gasped. Derek finally got his head in the game and thrust down. He could barely breathe when Derek bottomed out in him and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt. He was full and he wanted more, he undulated up as Derek snapped his hips back down, tearing a needy groan from his throat.

"Stiles, fuck," Derek said. His voice sounded like his lungs were having the same trouble that Stiles's were, not enough oxygen in the room.

"Yes, come on, Derek. Please," Stiles encouraged. He clenched his muscles around the cock driving into him. "You said… You… said," he grunted again. "You were going t-to take care of me."

That seemed to be all that Derek needed. All Stiles could do was cling to Derek as the speed and force came crashing into him repeatedly. Derek's teeth came down on his throat, the werewolf nipped and bit, licked to soothe and just kept going. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders and tried to ride out the pleasure, tried to keep from drowning in it.

Derek drove spikes of pleasure through Stiles's body, and when Derek grabbed his cock, fist gripping him in tight warmth still oily from where the fingers had prepared him Stiles dug his nails into Derek's back.

"Fuck," Derek grunted. "So tight…"

Derek's fist worked wildly on Stiles's dick as he kissed him more fiercely then he ever had before. They were clinging to each other, trying to breathe out of each other's lungs and it was too good, too much. The fist around him tightened and Stiles moaned into Derek's mouth, the pressure was so close to being too much.

"Please, harder," Stiles begged.

Derek's hips answered Stiles's demands. They pounded on and on and Stiles didn't think he was talking so much as just panting out encouragement. Stiles lost himself, couldn't tell where Derek ended and he began, there was just the steady drumming slap of flesh on flesh.

"I'm so close, Derek," Stiles grunted.

The admission caused Derek's hips to stutter. He lost the rhythm he had and it became wild, unpredictable, and Stiles couldn't take it anymore and came hard enough that he thought he was going to black out. He was begging and hissing, but the pleasure didn't stop. It just kept going, wave after wave tearing his body apart from the inside out. His legs were shaking against the arms pinning them.

Derek fucked him right through his orgasm. Stiles sucked on Derek's tongue and lips, his body seizing up. Derek's thrusts became even more wildly powerful and unsteady and then Derek was shaking as he grunted out his pleasure into Stiles's mouth. He kept going hips twitching through his own orgasm, slamming down over and over. The sound of it was hot enough that Stiles thought he was going to empty his balls between them again. Stiles whimpered as Derek's body shook under the force of a few more spasms.

"I love you," Derek said when his body had finally stopped trembling.

Stiles licked his way back into Derek's mouth and twisted his muscles around Derek's dick. "That's why you're going to call the rental company and tell them we need one more day right?"

Derek grinned down at him, green eyes full of love and other things that Stiles was just beginning to have names for. "There was a note downstairs saying it had already been taken care of," Derek told him.

"That means that after we get cleaned up we're finally going to do some of the things I had planned?"

"Perhaps, as well as more things tonight that you probably didn't think of."

Stiles couldn't wait.


	32. Guess Who

Stiles the portraits of the small game board he was laying on the floor in front of. "Are they a sexy scowling werewolf?"

"No," Derek sighed. "Does she have glasses?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek before nodding his head grudgingly. Derek flipped down a few more portraits on his game board. Stiles didn't like where this was going. "Are they really into eating bananas?"

Derek blinked at him, but didn't say anything at first. They stared at each other for a few minutes. "There's no way I could know that," he said finally.

"Does that mean I get to ask a new question?" It seemed the only diplomatic way to proceed with the game.

"Fine," Derek growled. "Go ahead."

Stiles chewed on his lower lip in concentration, rolled onto his back and looked at his portraits upside down. None of them were down yet. He rubbed his stomach lightly with one hand and let the other fall to the carpet. "Are they wearing black because it makes them seem brooding and hot?"

Derek watched the hand Stiles was rubbing his belly with, eyes locked on where he'd gotten his shirt twisted up, and a small strip of skin visible below the material. The waistband of his boxers peeked out over the top of his jeans.

"They aren't wearing black, you can't even see their clothes," Derek said distractedly.

"Oh? You want to play this game without clothes on? Strip Guess Who? You really are a pervert. Allison, tell Derek he's a pervert," Stiles said.

Allison giggled from the couch where she was sitting behind Derek looking at her phone. Stiles watched her glance over Derek's shoulder down at the game board sitting in front of him, before going back to whatever she was doing on her cell. "I'm not going to tell him that. He was kind enough to buy us all sorts of games to play just to make you happy, you should be nicer."

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, still on his back and licked his lips suggestively. "I make him happy."

"That's totally an over-share," Scott called from in the kitchen; his voice was accompanied by the sound of a bag of potato chips being torn open.

Stiles grinned as Derek ignored the beta and asked, "Does she have white hair?"

"Oh? White hair you ask?" Stiles pouted as he rolled back onto his stomach. "Yes. Yes she does."

Derek flipped down all but one of the portraits. Derek smiled smugly at Stiles knowing that he was going to win next turn. Stiles knew he had to guess this turn correctly in order to not lose. Derek was going to get it right with his next question. His phone beeped and he glanced down at it, unlocked it and looked at the message. He smiled at Derek and asked "Is your person Charles B.?"

Derek growled and pulled the little card out of the game board before winging it at Stiles's face. "You're such a cheater," Derek growled.

Stiles pushed himself up to his hands and knees and crawled over the boards that were setup on the floor between them. He put his hands on Derek's thighs, leaned in and kissed him softly. "Aww, don't be a sour wolf," he said. "You should smile more." Derek nipped his lips lightly; Stiles backed away from him and gave him a scandalized look.

"It's time to go to the beach," Lydia announced as she came out of her room. "Everybody go change."

Stiles grinned at Derek and gestured towards the stairs that led to their room. Derek leered at him. He could feel heat rising in his face. Derek quickly got to his feet and made his way toward the second floor. Stiles was just about to follow him when Lydia caught hold of the back of his shirt collar and brought him up short. He made a squeaky, yet dignified noise of protest.

"But," he whined, "I have to go change!"

"One at a time," Lydia said, "or we'll never make it to the beach."

Stiles stretched out his arms towards Derek and made little grabby motions with his hands. Derek shook his head and left him in Lydia's clutches. Stiles let his arms fall to his sides, his mouth fell open. Derek had totally just abandoned him.

Jackson came into the room wearing only swim trunks with a towel swung over his shoulder. He tilted his head as he looked at Lydia holding a pouting. "I'm… I'm just not even going to ask."

Scott came out of the kitchen crumpling up an empty bag of chips and tossed it into the garbage can. "Lydia just cock blocked him," he told Jackson.

"Lydia's really good at that," Jackson said, then his face got red as he and Scott exchanged looks.

"Never. Again." Allison enunciated very clearly. "We agreed we weren't going to talk about the sex frenzy."

Stiles was eventually released to go change after Derek had returned to the living room. The pack went out the back doors of the house and down to the beach. Derek put sunscreen on Stiles even though he was able to use his hands. Derek finally let Stiles go swimming with Allison and Lydia after he was sure Stiles was sufficiently protected.

The pack played volleyball. Derek, Stiles, and Lydia took on Jackson, Scott, and Allison. It was a close game, and even though he lost, Jackson cheered when Derek spiked the winning point hard enough into Scott's chest to knock him down.

After a lot of shameless begging, the pack agreed to play hide and seek, Lydia was 'it', because they decided it'd be unfair for the werewolves to track the humans by scent. Stiles wasn't sure if he won because he was good at hiding or because everyone was screwing with him. Either way, he had so much fun his sides hurt from all the laughing.

During lunch, Stiles distributed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the basket he had brought from the house, along with bottles of water and various non banana fruits; he was hiding all the bananas in their room back at the house. The day was turning out to be everything he'd hoped for. They must have taken hundreds of pictures and he couldn't wait to get them all onto his computer.

After lunch the pack split up. Derek took Stiles to a small ice cream parlor bustling with couples on dates. They shared a banana split and Stiles watched every twist of Derek's tongue on their dessert. When he got a little too worked up watching Derek eat, the werewolf hauled Stiles into the small mens' room and locked the door.

Stiles covered his face with his hands and tried to be quiet as Derek took care of the problem that had popped up. On their way out of the no longer quite so innocent establishment he realized he hadn't been as quiet as he should have been. He didn't do a very good job of ignoring the shocked faces of the people they passed on the way out. He tried to hide the red in his face as Derek frog marched him out of the building, steering him with a grip on the back of his shirt collar.

Derek and Stiles wandered back towards the house slowly. They watched the sunset together and occasionally stopped to share a few kisses on the sidewalk. They made it home before the rest of the pack and took a small nap together in the hammock; Stiles nestled against Derek's side.

Allison and Scott woke them up just before Jackson and Lydia returned. Stiles convinced Lydia to play battleship with him. She crushed him mercilessly. They let Allison pick a group game, and she made everyone look clumsy as she claimed victory after victory in Jenga.

Jackson and Scott started to take the game night a little too seriously and almost came to blows after a particularly cutthroat game of Monopoly. Stiles wasn't even sure why since Lydia destroyed everyone anyway, it's not like they were even fighting for third place.

Scott barely squeaked out a victory during a game of Sorry!, but lost to Stiles during Trouble. They decided to settle the tie with a no holds barred game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. No one knew who won though because it devolved into a pillow fight, one that nearly destroyed the couch's cushions. Scott didn't cheat with his wolf strength that Stiles could tell, so he would leave Scott's underwear drawer free of wolfsbane.

They cleaned up the living room and sat down at the table to play card games. Jackson proved impossible to beat at Spades, and when Derek proved himself the master of Texas Hold'em Stiles was glad everyone shot down his idea of Strip Poker. There wasn't really any point if Derek was going to have all his clothes on.

With Allison's help, Stiles crafted a wonderful dinner of spicy Cajun chicken that set all the wolves stomachs grumbling before it was even done. Three times Lydia had to chase Jackson and Scott back into the living room so that dinner could be finished in peace. She even had another stare down with Derek when he tried to thieve a dinner roll that Allison had freshly taken from the oven. Stiles imagined Derek would have won eventually, but he interrupted them and gave Derek the roll he wanted. He imperiously ignored Scott and Jackson's insinuations that it was favoritism.

After dinner, they sat down to watch a movie while eating ice cream. Stiles refused to look at Derek while he ate his. No one said anything when Derek picked the movie, but once they were alone Stiles was going to make a point of teasing him over having picked Dirty Dancing, especially when he caught him whispering along with the movie at times, apparently Derek agreed that 'no one puts baby in a corner'.

"It was Laura's favorite movie," he said defensively. No one argued, though it was clear that Jackson and Scott were almost willing to risk their limbs again to do so.

Stiles wanted to stay up late and play more games, the day had been wonderful, everything he had wanted from their trip and he didn't want it to end. The members of the pack were all yawning and looking at Derek as Stiles begged and pleaded to play just one more game of President, but since Derek was the President at the end of the last game he declared that it was bedtime.

Stiles tried to protest more, but eventually Derek just picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder like he was a sack of flour. He tried to pinch Derek's sides and tickle him, but it had no effect.

"Be still," Derek commanded, punctuating his point with a hard slap to Stiles's ass.

Stiles froze at the impact and the sound of Derek's voice. He tried to shift so that Derek wouldn't be able to tell how that made him feel, but from the sound of Derek's long drawn out inhale of breath, Stiles imagined he didn't hide it very well.

"Oh god," he mumbled.

Derek didn't say anything, just spanked him again and kicked the door to their room open with a little more force than was necessary.


	33. Packing Up the Memories

Stiles sat sullenly on the stairs that led to the second floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. He was ignoring everyone as they moved around packing up leftover food from the kitchen and cleaned up games they hadn't put away the night before. They were getting ready to leave, all their suitcases were already packed and sitting by the front door.

Allison walked towards him, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. He frowned at her, sensing a trick coming. She smiled and waved the cup back and forth in front of his face. He held his breath; it was crafty of her to use one of his primary weaknesses against him.

"Come on, Stiles," she said softly offering him the coffee.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his arms. She rubbed his head and set the coffee down on the stairs between his feet. She was wickedly cunning; the aroma rose up between his legs and hit him full in the face. He licked his lips, but held his ground.

Stiles felt someone sit down on the stairs next to him and playfully punch him in the arm. He turned his head to the side and looked into Jackson's soft blue eyes. He rocked slightly to the side, careful of the coffee between his feet and bumped his shoulder into Jackson. He couldn't help but grin when Jackson smiled at him.

"The sooner we get back the sooner we can get your lacrosse skills up to par," Jackson told him. "If you're going to be first line then you need to bring your game up."

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Jackson. The blonde rolled his eyes and stood up after he bumped their shoulders together again. Stiles didn't mind. He wanted Jackson to know that he was okay with the whole bro hugging moments now that the air had been cleared between them. He wanted Jackson to be comfortable with everyone. Well, he'd prefer if Jackson was less comfortable with Scott. Stiles never went into the hot tub after Lydia had given him as much of the story as she knew.

Soft thumps above and behind him on the stairs warned that Derek was coming down. The werewolf stepped carefully around him, lifting both of their suitcases so they wouldn't bump into him as he walked past. Stiles loved to watch Derek walk; when he glanced up from Derek's ass he noticed that Derek was watching him. He buried his face in his arms again so that no one would see the color in his cheeks.

"I'm not carrying your suitcase out to the van, Stiles," Derek said. "I'm giving you a helping hand not a hand out."

Derek laughed when Stiles groaned into his arms. Stiles hated it when people used his own words against him. Words were his thing, other people weren't supposed to use them like that. It was unfair. He couldn't growl or scowl or wolf hug people into submission… well except for Derek.

Stiles felt the stairs move slightly again and he turned his head to look into Scott's warm brown eyes. His best friend grinned at him, but Stiles just turned his face back into his arms and leaned away against the opposite wall. Scott scooted over closer and poked him in the ribs trying to tickle him. Pain shot out through his side and he let out an involuntarily gasp.

"Oh, dude, I'm sorry. I forgot," Scott said, "You alright?" Stiles ignored him. "Come on don't be like that. You're dad told me that the weekend after we get back he's going to take us to a ball game. There's going to be ballpark hotdogs, flat soda, and many pretzels just waiting for you to eat them!"

Stiles turned his face to look at Scott. After a few seconds he glanced at Allison in the kitchen. Scott followed his gaze, then leaned closer to Stiles and whispered to him, "No girls allowed okay?"

Stiles grinned and opened his mouth, then remembered he wasn't talking to anyone and closed it again. Scott threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. He rejoined the others as they started to carry packed up bags and suitcases out to the van.

He put his head back down on his arms and stared longingly at the coffee between his feet. He licked his lips as he stared into the deliciousness. A perfectly manicured hand reached down and stole the cup just as he was about to reach for it. He lifted his eyes slightly and saw an expensive looking shoe tapping impatiently on the carpet.

"Stiles," Lydia said, "you're being ridiculous."

Stiles raised his head and pouted at her, turned on the puppy dog eyes. She regarded him with no empathy. He let his lip tremble slightly. She narrowed her eyes. He sniffled sadly. She shifted the coffee she had stolen from him to her left hand. He almost thought he had won when she lunged forward and snagged his ear in her hand, and yanked until he stumbled forward off the stairs and got to his feet. In that moment he realized that Lydia was unstoppable. He had reduced Derek to a quivering mess with less effort. Lydia was made of sterner stuff.

"I'm only going to say this once," Lydia told him as she let go of his ear. She looked to the door and pointed to the van where everyone was gathered putting things in the back. "If you stay here, and we all leave, you're never going to get to touch Derek again."

Lydia was a terrible person, but he was out the door before she had even finished laughing.

"Hey wait for me everybody," he called out as he grabbed his suitcase from next to the door, almost tripping over it as he rushed to the van.


	34. If the Van Could Talk

"Alright," Stiles said, "I've got it, go ahead and take your first guess."

"Derek," everyone in the car, including Derek, said at the same time. Stiles looked at each one of them in turn, wondering how they all knew. It was like they had all become magic when he wasn't looking.

Jackson rolled his eyes from behind Derek's seat; Lydia grabbed her phone out of her purse and pulled out earphones. Stiles frowned at them both. Scott and Allison sat in the back, Scott's chin on the back of the seat between Jackson and Lydia. Allison playfully flicked Jackson's ear. He growled at her. Stiles thought it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen Jackson do.

"Fine," Stiles huffed. "I'll just think about something else."

He paused; cast his eyes around the van, lingering for a moment in the direction of the driver's seat. He needed to be cleverer, to think of something they wouldn't have any idea he would think about. Stiles glanced towards the back of the van, trying to throw off everyone's guesses.

"Alright, I've got it," Stiles said.

"Derek's belt buckle," Lydia said without a moment's pause.

Stiles gaped at her. She was in his brain, stealing his thoughts. It was uncanny and frightening. "H-How…"

"You've spent seventy percent of the car ride staring at his crotch. Not that much of a riddle," Lydia said.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in the seat. He wasn't pouting, no matter what the smirk he could see on Derek's face implied. Lydia was just too good at games. Stiles was supposed to be the master of games, the world had become a frightening place for him to live in.

Derek reached out and patted Stiles's thigh. Stiles perked up a bit and put his hand over Derek's. At least there were good things about this new world. He heard Jackson growl again and turned around to see what was going on.

Allison flicked Jackson again while Scott pulled on his hair lightly. Jackson was frowning and shaking his head, trying to dislodge the fingers that were teasing him. "I swear I'm going to jump into that back seat and beat you both mercilessly," Jackson warned them.

"The way I heard it Scott already beat you wildly in the hot tub," Allison said with a slight chuckle.

Everyone in the car, including Derek turned to look at her in the back, the van swerved drunkenly into the slow lane for a moment before Derek got control of the vehicle again. Stiles's mouth was hanging open in shock. Allison turned her head to the side so her hair would hide her face, but Stiles was pretty sure he saw a faint blush creeping up over her cheeks.

"I knew you secretly thought it was hot," Lydia said.

Stiles blinked at Lydia, how she could hear anything with earphones on was a mystery to him. He watched her carefully; she blinked back at him revealing nothing on her face. He stuck his tongue out at her and she smiled slightly. Stiles would bet money that she didn't even have any music on; she was just trying to seem above all the bonding they were doing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Allison said in very quiet voice. "Let's play another game."

"Like spin the bottle just so you can see Jackson and Scott kiss? Seven minutes in heaven, only with like a spy cam so you can see them you know… Untz Untz Untz," Stiles suggested.

"I don't want to see that," Allison protested.

"Okay, one of the werewolves has to tell me if that was a lie," Stiles said and looked imploringly at Derek. The werewolf just pinched his thigh causing him to make an incredibly manly squeaking noise.

Stiles tried to get a good look at Jackson and Scott but they were both studying opposite sides of the car. Stiles was positive he could see red creeping up both their necks. Jackson's ears looked like they were sunburned.

"It's pretty common for girls to think about guys having sex with each other," Lydia said as though it were a well known fact. "It's no big deal. I'm sure most of us imagined what Derek and Stiles looked like having sex. We all heard the soundtrack."

"Gah! You did not just say that. Derek, tell them to stop talking about us having sex," Stiles said as he turned his head to look at the werewolf. Derek's grip on the steering wheel was suspiciously tight. The bulge in the crotch of his jeans looked suspiciously… bulgier. Stiles tried to surreptitiously adjust himself without anyone noticing. Derek's hand tightened on his leg, which did not help the problem he was having.

"Oh god," Scott said from the back seat.

"No kidding," Jackson confirmed.

"I can barely breathe," Scott continued.

"What?" Allison's voice was little more than a squeak.

"If I was to take an educated guess," Lydia said as she turned to look at Allison in the back seat, "your comment just sent every werewolf, and Stiles, into a horny fit."

Stiles looked back and saw Allison's eyes grow really wide. He didn't even want to think about what that small conversation had just revealed, but he couldn't help himself of course. Allison thought the idea of Jackson and Scott was sort of hot? Lydia thought about Derek and him having sex? He wondered if Jackson and Scott secretly wanted to go a few more rounds in the hot tub. Stiles was relatively sure that Jackson had a hot tub at his house.

"Lydia, have you ever thought about having sex with Allison?" Stiles asked the question before he stopped to think about what he was saying. He clapped his hand over his mouth almost immediately after the words came out. Stiles had forgotten how terrible he was at impulse control.

He almost started laughing when suddenly Jackson and Scott were doing their own surreptitious adjustments. Stiles was pretty sure it wasn't just him that thought the van was getting hot pretty fast. Lydia didn't respond to his question, just smiled at him enigmatically.

Derek's hand tightened on his leg again. He glanced over at the werewolf and thought that Derek might have been holding his breath. He looked back at the other wolves and realized they were doing the same. That must mean there was a lot of lust in the air. Everyone was looking out the windows in different directions. The van suddenly swerved again, and Stiles turned around to see they were pulling off at a rest stop.

"Everyone out," Derek practically yelled.

Doors flew open and people started to climb over each other to get out quickly. Stiles moved to open the passenger door to get out, but Derek didn't let go of his leg. He glanced back at the werewolf. Derek's eyes were focused on Stiles's groin.

He licked his lips nervously and let out a low breath. Derek didn't so much as unfasten his seatbelt as snap the restraint as his hands grasped Stiles's belt and started unbuckling it. Stiles bit his knuckle and turned his gaze away from Derek's hungry eyes.

He noticed, in that brief moment of clarity right before everything goes crazy, that Allison and Scott were headed off into the woods behind the rest stop, and that Jackson and Lydia were nowhere to be seen.

Stiles couldn't speculate any further though, he was too busy trying not to moan too loudly. Derek had gotten Stiles's dick out and was trying to remind Stiles of all the good things Derek's tongue could do. Stiles gritted his teeth and tried to hold on as Derek's lips, mouth, and throat joined in on the fun.

He would have been worried about having to clean up the van after Derek's impromptu… snack break… except that he knew how much Derek liked making sure that Stiles was all cleaned up before tucking him back into his pants. Stiles made sure to be just as thorough when returning the favor.

Cleaning aside, he was worried though at the broken seat belt, that was just more damage the poor van didn't need. It was probably a pretty good thing that the van couldn't tell anyone about the things it had seen during their trip.


	35. Arriving at Awesome

"Dude, that was such an awesome trip," Scott said excitedly as he paced back and forth in front of the window in Stiles's room.

Stiles spun in his computer chair, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah… awesome…" His heart wasn't really in it though. Stiles was glad to be home in a way, but at the same time he really wished they were still at the house on the beach. Derek had dropped the two of them off awhile ago and continued on his way to take the rest of the pack home. Stiles missed him already.

"I can't believe you're not still excited. You got like everything you wanted right?"

"I guess…"

Stiles was startled when Scott grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him in the chair. "Stiles," Scott said, "you lost your fricken virginity!"

"How do you-"

"Oh my god, everyone on that beach for miles had to have heard you lose your virginity. You were all 'Oh Derek please more'!"

Stiles gaped at his friend, he spluttered trying to make some sort of response, but he couldn't find anything to say. He felt like he was suddenly afflicted with Scott's vocabulary. Stiles was momentarily horrified at the thought of what it would be like to never have the words to explain something again. That sounded like Scott's whole life.

Scott kept going with his totally inaccurate Derek impersonation. He brought one hand up using it to illustrate what Stiles only assumed was supposed to be himself. "Oh Derek…" Scott stroked the top of the hand he was using as Stiles's head. "Shhh, Stiles. I'll never hurt you again. I'll make you feel so good."

Stiles closed his eyes as Scott proceeded to make out with his own hand. That was just embarrassing. He was sure he hadn't sounded anything like that. He knew that Derek hadn't sounded anything like that.

"It wasn't like that… it was special," Stiles said.

"I know man, I'm sorry I was just teasing you"

Stiles opened his eyes when he heard Scott sit down on the bed. His friend suddenly looked uncomfortable. Stiles opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but Scott opened his mouth also.

"You first," they said at the same time.

Stiles made a motion like he was zipping his mouth closed and gestured for Scott to go on. His friend looked down at the floor and scuffed his shoes on the carpet. He looked nervous. Stiles rolled the chair closer and punched him in the arm. Scott looked up at him and grinned.

"I just…" Scott began, voice soft, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, for like… being such a huge dick to you recently." Stiles watched Scott struggle silently on the bed to find the words to say what he wanted to say, to get it out the way he needed to. "I just wish I had been paying more attention. I'm not going to do that sort of thing to you again. I want to make it up to you."

"You already did Scott, and you're still making up for it right now." Stiles said. "Besides, I was happy for you. Sure I was lonely sometimes, but I totally went full on drama queen." He rubbed a hand over his short hair and licked his lips nervously.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You helped me, when I really needed it, you helped me," Stiles told him, "When it really came down to it, you helped me figure something out; you helped me do something that I didn't even know I needed help with. We're here right now, together. Still friends, we always will be." Stiles stood up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to his friend, bumped his shoulder into Scott and smiled. "When push came to shove, you were there; Derek may not have come back if we hadn't tried your plan. Don't sell yourself short. I mean, you're not the smartest guy, but you've got a lot of heart kid."

"Well don't tell Derek this, but…" Scott paused looking for more words, "I'm glad you're with him." Scott ruined it when he continued and said, "He's probably the only person in the world who could keep up with you anyway. I know he's the only person who has enough energy to tire you out. The only thing he seems to not be good at is keeping you quiet, but no one expects the guy to do miracles."

Scott pushed Stiles. Stiles hit him with a pillow. Scott got a pillow and hit him back. Things quickly got out of hand and they were jumping around Stiles's room making a horrible mess of his bed and everything else.

"Just because Derek Hale is your girlfriend now doesn't mean you can take me in a fight," Scott taunted, "I'm still top dog here."

"You just love saying things you're going to regret," Stiles said, eyes catching movement near his desk outside the window. Scott might have caught it too if he wasn't too busy fighting off Stiles. He tried to herd Scott over towards the window as Scott continued his banter.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do to make me regret it huh?"

"You're such a bad werewolf," Stiles told him.

Scott blinked at him suddenly confused. Stiles had no pity, as soon as he had talked smack about Derek, Scott had sealed his own doom. If he'd been paying more attention with his wolf senses, he might have been able to save himself from the embarrassment about to take place.

"What do you mean?"

Stiles just smiled and looked pointedly over Scott's shoulder. Scott sniffed the air, closed his eyes and groaned. Stiles chuckled slightly at his friend's discomfort.

"He's right behind me isn't he?"

Stiles nodded. He laughed as he watched Derek reach out slowly and put his hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott stared at Stiles as though looking for help. Stiles just grinned.

"Is he glowing?" Scott gestured toward his own eyes.

Stiles shook his head negatively. Scott let out a sigh of relief. That was probably because he couldn't see the look of mischief on Derek's face.

"Did you call me someone's girlfriend?" Derek's voice was a low, threatening growl.

Scott gulped nervously as Derek placed his other hand on Scott's shoulder, and got a good grip on his shirt. He looked at Stiles for help. Stiles shook his head and waved goodbye to him.

"It was just a joke," Scott said.

"So is this," Derek told him, right before tossing him out Stiles's window.

Stiles walked over and looked out to see Scott on his back in the grass shaking his head. "You okay, buddy?"

Scott gave him a thumbs-up and slowly got to his feet. Stiles turned around to give Derek a slow clap of appreciation, but froze when he saw Derek was shirtless, belt unbuckled, and undoing the button on his jeans. Stiles licked his lips nervously.

"W-what—"

"You're dad's working late right?" Derek asked. Stiles nodded. Derek gestured toward Stiles's bed. "This spot taken?"

Stiles shook his head negatively.

"Good, then get your clothes off. We're wasting time; we may only have a few hours left before your father gets home," Derek said.

Stiles swallowed nervously, but he was pulling his shirt off over his head as he walked toward the half naked werewolf. He tripped and fell on one of the pillows that had fallen to the floor during his pillow fight with Scott, but Derek caught him before he hit the ground. The trip may have been awesome, but Stiles thought having Derek in his room, taking off Stiles's clothes, was pretty fucking awesome too.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Hope you all enjoyed the story! This story continues with "How they Celebrate".**


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